My Messed Up Family
by Lucinda
Summary: A look at the youth of Joyce Creed, and her post-divorce life in Sunnydale as Joyce Summers. AU.
1. My Messed Up Family:  Joyce Creed

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg 13  
  
main character: Joyce Creed  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to anyone that you recognize.  
  
distribution: if you have permission for any of my other X-men fics, yes. Otherwise ask.  
  
note: What if Graydon wasn't the only child of Mystique and Sabertooth?  
  
Joyce sighed as she sat on the porch. Her parents were fighting again. She might only be fourteen, but she knew that this wasn't a good sign. Her few friends at school didn't have parents that fought so much. Of course, they also didn't have fathers that were over seven feet tall, and well able to literally scare away would be boyfriends. Her dad could be so overprotective sometimes. Maybe it was a side effect of his military career. Major Victor Creed worried about the safety of his two children, after all.  
  
Sometimes, she wondered what life would be like if she was in a normal family. With a father that wasn't a towering mass of muscle, with odd yellow eyes. With a mother who didn't smell like secrets and scales. A mother who hadn't lost half a dozen babies, trying to get... well, she didn't quite know why her mother had lost so many babies, or why she kept trying. Julia Creed wasn't the most loving mother around. But her brother Graydon seemed pretty normal. He was sixteen, a decent student, on the football team, and dating a cheerleader.  
  
She wondered what life would be like if she were normal. If she couldn't hear things from the next room, smell who someone had been talking to that morning. If she didn't have fingernails that could cut glass and steel, although that made a painful squealing noise that hurt her ears. If it took her weeks to heal from bruises like it did everyone else. She'd tried her best to hide those things, to pretend to be normal. To pretend to be human. Her dad probably wouldn't mind, but... what about her friends? What about Graydon or mom? Could she deal with becoming a social outcast for being a mutant freak?   
  
No, Graydon would definitely take it badly. He might be quite the athlete, and sort of open minded about inter-racial dating, but he'd have a fit if he knew the truth about her. If he knew that his sister was a mutant. She hated to admit it, but her brother Graydon Creed was a bit prejudiced.  
  
"What has you upset and sighing out here, pumpkin?" Her dad's voice came from the doorway, where he loomed almost like something scary in a horror film The faint moonlight reflected on his eyes like a cat's, creating these two spots of yellow light.  
  
Joyce tried to smile. "Sort of thinking. Daddy, could you teach me how to fight? I think... I'm afraid that someday I might need to know how to keep myself safe."  
  
He came over, settling beside her on the wooden bench. His scent wrapped around her, like spices and fur and sunshine. "You were watching the news again, weren't you? All those civil rights protests and the riots."  
  
Joyce sighed again, leaning against her father's arm. She felt safe with him, knowing that he wouldn't let anything hurt his children. "I don't think they're wrong to want the same rights as everyone else, daddy. But I won't always live here, and someday, I might get into trouble."  
  
"Pumpkin, you know that if I ever find out about anyone trying to hurt you, I'll be there ready to gut him, right?" Her father was the only person that she'd ever met that would include mention of gutting someone in an attempt at reassurance.  
  
She just looked at him, feeling the smile that tried to slip out. "It's things like that that make me wonder exactly what it is that you do for the military. But... as much as I know you would cheerfully gut anyone that hurt me, I'd sort of like to be able to get out of there and call you, you know?"  
  
He grinned, reaching out to ruffle her hair, "You know that's classified stuff. And I'll teach you how to protect yourself. It'll probably annoy your mom some, but..."  
  
"Mom's never satisfied with anything I do anyhow, so that wouldn't really be a change. No matter what I do, no matter what Graydon does, it's never enough to make her happy. I think... we just aren't the sort of kids that she wanted." Joyce could feel the tears threatening, and tried to hold them back.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with you, Joyce. And your brother's a decent kid too." There was a hint of a growl in her father's voice.  
  
"Glad that one of my parents thinks so anyhow." She couldn't help the trickle of bitterness in her voice.  
  
Her mother was gone in the morning. Just... gone, with some of her things and one of the cars. None of them could quite believe it. Graydon tried to act like it didn't matter, but Joyce could see it in his eyes, smell the tears that he was refusing to shed. Everything felt off balance after that, like there was a huge chunk of their lives that had been torn away.  
  
Joyce flung herself into the lessons on how to defend herself. She spent hours practicing, burning the movements and reactions into her muscles through hours of aching practice. She refused to let herself mourn for her mother, considering that Julia had never allowed her to be close, to be affectionate. Her mother had never really cared. If she ever had children, she would do better. Weeks blurred into months, and time blurred past.  
  
Everything fell apart after Graydon's graduation. He had packed his things and gone off to college, intending to become a lawyer. She was carefully dating someone that she'd met at a football game, a boy a year older than her from the next town over. But then her father didn't come back from one of his missions, at least, that was what the official message from his commander read. "Did not return from his last assignment." Her father had to be dead, because wouldn't he have returned otherwise? Her best friend Sarah had seen Kevin kissing some other girl, a brunette with a dark tan, so her boyfriend was cheating on her. Nobody knew anything about her mother, it was as if Julia Anne Chambers-Creed had vanished, the only proof that she'd ever existed her marriage to Victor Creed and their two children.  
  
Joyce couldn't quite handle everything. She flung herself into school, barely aware of how she managed to finish, almost surprised that her grades hadn't suffered. She sold the house, placing half of the money in her account, half in Graydon's, and left town. She tried to loose herself in the hippy lifestyle, listening to music, traveling around in flower painted vans with people calling themselves Moonbeam and Rowan. But she didn't become one of the people constantly using drugs. Oh, she'd tried, but it had left her feeling so sick and miserable that she'd vowed never again. Somehow, the traveling vacation from responsibility allowed her to move past the grief. To be able to think again.  
  
She went to college, having ended up in California, and majored in Art. She lied about her age, dropping fourteen years, and everybody believed it. After all, she didn't look thirty, she barely looked twenty.  
  
While in college, she met Hank Summers. He was charming, handsome, and wanted to help take care of her, to protect her. Maybe it would be nice to be taken care of again... Graydon had been content to let her fade from his awareness, going from law to politics. He'd also continued to hold his prejudices, getting involved with some new group that called themselves the 'Friends of Humanity'. Joyce thought they sounded like a bunch of mutant hating basket cases.  
  
And when her marriage fell apart, leaving her a divorced mother of two, she remembered her father's words, how he would gut anyone that hurt her. If only he was still there, if only she could call him and talk to him about the pain that the divorce had left her. But her father was gone. And now, she had to raise her daughters, Buffy and Dawn, alone.  
  
But she could survive this. She was her father's daughter.  
  
end My Messed up Family. 


	2. A Boy in Her Room

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg  
  
main character: Joyce  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now moving into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
Joyce had been setting up her art gallery, including a room in the basement where she could try to practice. She'd cut back so much of her workouts during her marriage to Hank, it had left her feeling dreadfully out of shape. It had been an effort to save her marriage, based on a comment he'd made once about not wanting a valkyrie wife. It hadn't worked, and she felt so annoyed with herself over the whole disastrous mess.   
  
But after some long hours moving things and trying to get things together, she'd decided that enough was enough. She wanted a shower very badly, horribly aware of the smell of her own sweat. She went home, stepping into the door and catching a scent that didn't belong. Some man... not the mail carrier, but somebody... and he'd come into her house. Who had been in her house, and where was he now? She frowned, and began following the scent.  
  
Gradually, it occurred to her that Buffy's scent was with the man's, so... Buffy had brought this man into the house. And sure enough, the scent lead to Buffy's room. She felt like growling and screaming. Her daughter was only sixteen, she shouldn't be sneaking strange men into the house! For God's sake, they'd only been in this town for a few weeks, and she hadn't even heard so much as a word from her daughter about a new boyfriend! So, what was he doing... She slipped into the room, frowning.  
  
Well, the good news was that there wasn't any scent of sex in the room. But... he was still here, currently hiding in Buffy's closet! It was almost surprising that there would be room, considering the number of shoes that her daughter had. Joyce glanced at the closet, debating the merits of opening the door and demanding to know what in the hell some man was doing hiding in her daughter's closet. Pausing, she sniffed again. Correction, some injured man in her daughter's closet. Had her daughter decided to help some stranger? But then why not tell her about it?  
  
Glancing over at the table, she saw a denim blue book. Buffy's diary. Maybe the answers would be in there... She actually had the book in her hand before she paused to consider - how would she have felt if her mother had been reading her diary? With a small sigh, she put it down, shaking her head.  
  
What was she going to do? She had a sixteen year old daughter who was hiding men... alright, a man, in her room. The same daughter that had been getting into fights all the time, refusing to speak about it, sneaking out of her room at night. Not only that, but... The scents never smelled quite normal. As if... could her daughter be sneaking out to try to beat up mutants? Had she produced a daughter who was a bigot? Someone following in her brother's footsteps? Oh dear lord, she hoped not. She'd tried so hard, tried to raise her children better than that. Although Hank hadn't helped, being so distrustful of mutants, of foreigners.   
  
Maybe it was better that Hank wouldn't be part of their daily life. Maybe she could try to make sure they grew up to be responsible, to be able to take care of themselves. And she could try to make sure they hadn't picked up any irrational prejudices.  
  
Had it been a mistake not to tell Buffy about her family? Nothing more than that her father had been in the military, killed in action? That she had an older brother, that they weren't close anymore? Should she have explained that she was related to Graydon Creed? No, perhaps that would only have made them more likely to listen to his hateful words. Her brother tried to blame mutants for the high crime rates, for the problems in the economy, for rampant drug use... Graydon would probably try to blame them for the hole in the ozone layer and the annoying tendency of hot dogs to come in packages of eight and buns in packages of ten if he thought it would help his position. For a smart man, her brother could be such a... well, blind, arrogant, prejudiced ass came to mind. Such a disappointment.  
  
Part of her wanted to stalk right back into that room, to yank open the closet door and demand to know what that man intended to do with her daughter. To threaten him with very specific painful things to treasured portions of his anatomy if he made her daughter cry. To demand answers.  
  
Instead, she decided to take a quick shower. Joyce locked the door behind her as she went into the bathroom, knowing that while that might not stop someone, it would certainly let her know that someone was trying to come in. She would feel better, more reasonable, less cranky after a shower.  
  
Maybe this was the reason why her mother had left. The difficulties of dealing with teenage children who wanted so badly to be grown up, to be counted responsible. But she didn't think her daughters were ready yet. Buffy most definitely wasn't ready for that coveted Driver's license, and as for Dawn? Dawn was only twelve, and not ready at all to be an adult. Things had only become harder now, knowing that she was a single parent, that all the financial responsibilities fell on her. That it as her responsibility to make sure things went smoothly at the house, to pay the bills, to make sure her children were healthy. To try to make sure they had ethics and integrity.  
  
Why had she thought children were a good idea again?  
  
If she ever found out where her mother had gone to, she would have a few choice words for her. Starting with 'how could you?' and moving on to hopes of an excruciatingly painful and lonely old age. To have just... vanished like that. It had hurt so badly, not just for her, but for Graydon and their father as well. That was one of the reasons why she hadn't fought Hank's request for summer custody. She didn't want to deprive her daughters of one of their parents like she'd been deprived of her mother.  
  
How different would things be if her father hadn't died? If she could talk to him about problems? Well, probably if he hadn't died, she would never have spent those years wasting time playing the irresponsible hippy bum. She wouldn't have ended up married to Hank, with Buffy and Dawn. Her life would have been completely different. Maybe not better, but it would definitely be different. Of course, if she'd married someone right out of school, she could have grandchildren now. The idea made her shudder. She wasn't ready for grandchildren. Although, on the subject of grandchildren, maybe she should have that talk with Buffy again.  
  
Just to make sure.  
  
end Boy in Her Room. 


	3. A Bad Influence

author: Lucinda

rating: pg 13

main character: Joyce

appearances by Darla, Angel, Buffy and Giles

disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS.

distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask

note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now moving into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.

dialog is from the episode 'Angel', checked at http/studiesinwords.de/buffy.html

Joyce found herself worrying about Buffy a lot. She'd hoped that by moving to such a smaller town, Buffy wouldn't be able to get into the same sort of trouble that she'd managed in Los Angeles. That the fighting and sneaking out would slow down, maybe even stop. But it hadn't, and if anything, the fighting may have become more frequent. What had gone wrong?

She'd hoped that maybe Buffy's grades would improve here, in this little town with such limited social opportunities. Maybe Buffy would find some friends interested in more than boys, and cloths, and music. The doorbell rang, distracting her from those worries.

Opening the door, she saw a young woman, someone that looked maybe a year or two older than Buffy. She wore this little plaid skirt and a white blouse under a blazer, reminding Joyce of a Catholic school girls uniform. But... there weren't any Catholic schools around here. She'd have noticed when looking for schools. Maybe... maybe this girl just liked plaid? "Hello?"

The blonde girl fidgeted a bit, glancing down and then back up, as if shy, or nervous. "Hi! I'm Darla? A friend of Buffy's?"

Darla was a friend of Buffy's? That sounded... wouldn't it be a good thing if Buffy were making friends? Something about Darla seemed a bit off, though, as if she were hiding something. Joyce paused, taking a breath as she considered everything. Darla's scent was a bit different, not quite the normal unless the girl had unusual tastes in perfume. Maybe Darla was just worried about being outed as a mutant? Joyce sighed in relief. "Nice to meet you.

Darla looked at the ground, her shoulders dropping a bit. "She didn't mention anything about me coming over for a study date, did she?"

The girl looked so upset... but something wasn't quite right. Her scent wasn't changing quite the way it should have been. Was she really a friend of Buffy? "No, I thought she was studying with Willow at the library."

"She is. Willow's the Civil War expert, but then I was supposed to help her with the War of Independence. My family kinda goes back to those days." Darla seemed so smoothly comfortable with the question.

Something still seemed off. But, maybe she should bring the girl in? Buffy needed all the help with her history that she could get, judging from that last test, and her daughter was supposed to be back any minute now. "Well, I, I know she's supposed to be home soon. Would you like to come in and wait?"

Darla smiled, her eyes glittering with pleasure. She stepped into the living room, her voice soft, almost too sweet. "It's very nice of you to invite me into your home."

Darla even seemed to have manners. Why didn't more girls these days have some manners? Had please and thank you suffered a major falling out in the English language? She headed towards the kitchen, thinking that she might as well be a good hostess. "You're welcome. I've been wrestling with the IRS all night. Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes, I would." Darla's voice was from close behind, her footsteps far softer than Joyce would have expected in those shoes.

Why was Darla so close? Didn't the girl understand about giving a person a bit of space? "Let's see what we have. Do you feel like something little or something big?"

"Something big!" Darla's voice changed a bit, not in a way that Joyce could explain, but it was there.

Joyce turned just as the shorter blond lunged, Darla's face now with golden eyes and sharp teeth. Moving to the side, she lashed out with a blow to Darla's ribs, now certain that while this girl might know her daughter, she definitely wasn't the sort of girl that she wanted Buffy spending a lot of time with. Darla countered by turning, her fist lashing out with inhuman speed.

Joyce almost managed to dodge, but it caught her shoulder, the explosion of pain making her scream out. Darla was far stronger than she looked, and had that actually dislocated her shoulder? Darla grabbed her, nails almost breaking the skin of her arm, dragging her closer and sinking those sharp teeth into her neck.

"Let her go!" A man's voice from inside her kitchen. The scent was sort of familiar, the same as the person that Buffy had been hiding in her room.

Darla spoke to the man, lifting her head from Joyce's neck. Her tone was that sickly sweet one again, as if trying to convince someone of something that they should already know. "I just had a little, there's plenty more. Aren't you hungry for something warm after all this time? Come on, Angel. Just say 'Yes'!"

This was too much. She'd been attacked in her very own kitchen, and now this Darla was trying to have Buffy's maybe boyfriend join in? Forget that! She flexed her hand, preparing for the blow, and rammed her sharp nails into Darla's stomach, the scent of Darla's blood immediately filling the air. With an outraged scream, Darla hurled her away, and Joyce collided with a large male body.

She could feel the man, Angel, tense. There was a subtle vibration, a faint growl from him, and when Joyce looked up, his face had changed as well, the same yellow eyes and sharp teeth as Darla. What was going on here?

"Welcome home." Darla's voice was almost mocking as she left, her footsteps rapid.

The last thing Joyce was aware of was the sound of Angel growling, his cool body trembling slightly as he held her. She just felt so dizzy... she barely heard Buffy's voice calling out that she was home before the darkness pulled her under.

The next thing that she was aware of, she was in a hospital bed, wearing only one of those horribly embarrassing thin gowns. Her neck burned, but her shoulder felt better, enough that it most likely hadn't been dislocated, only bruised. If she ever got her hands on that Darla girl again... Well, on second thought, maybe she'd better practice and get into better shape first. Darla had been strong, and fast.

Buffy came into the room, an older man dressed in tweed and worry slightly behind her.

"Do you remember anything, mom?" Buffy sounded worried, but there was also anger in her eyes.

The question seemed out of place. She had been attacked, it wasn't as if she'd had a head injury! But, was there some sort of reason why Buffy didn't want to mention what had happened? "Just, um, your friend came over... I was going to make a snack..." Her throat hurt, making it painful to continue.

Buffy went tense, as if something was pulling her muscles tight from the inside. Something flickered, her eyes going pained, almost looking betrayed. "My friend?"

Joyce felt the certainty form inside, cold, ugly. Buffy knew something, more about the events, and she wasn't telling her. Maybe a little prompting might help figure a few things out. She could play dumb, it was a skill she'd spent years practicing with Hank. "I guess I slipped and cut my neck on... The doctor said it looked like a barbecue fork."

She looked at Buffy, trying to read her daughter's expression carefully. "We don't have a barbecue fork." She waved weakly at the man beside her daughter, trying to figure out who he was. "Are you another doctor?"

Buffy glanced over, as if she'd forgotten who was standing there. "Oh! Um... No, Mom, this is Mr. Giles."

"Oh, the librarian from your school!" But that didn't make any sense. Buffy hated libraries, avoiding them if at all possible. "What's he doing here?"

Giles looked awkward, blushing a bit and stammering. "Uh, I-I just came to pay my respects, wish you a speedy recovery."

Joyce couldn't resist the urge to push a little bit more. "Boy, the teachers really do care in this town."

"Get some rest now." Buffy smiled, her eyes still full of anger and sorrow. Placing a small kiss on her mother's cheek, Buffy and Giles left the room.

Joyce sighed, listening as her daughter left, wondering what exactly this Giles had dragged her daughter into and how to get her back. What were they doing? Why hadn't this been more of a surprise to them?

Buffy's voice was filled with relief. "She's going to be okay. They, they gave her some iron... Her, uh, blood count was a, a little..."

"A little low. It presents itself like mild anemia. Uh, you, you were, uh, lucky you got to her as soon as you did." Giles didn't sound surprised, just awkward.

"Lucky? Stupid." Buffy's voice sounded bitter, angry.

A new voice, a boy that sounded like he was probably close to Buffy's age joined the conversation. "Buff, it's not your fault."

She wished that she could hear more of the conversation, but they went through another set of doors, and her hearing wasn't good enough to hear their words through two sets of those hospital fire doors and the one to her room. She closed her eyes, sighing. What had her daughter become involved with? It almost reminded her of some of her father's work, the way he would sometimes hint about a few things with some of the other people he worked with. But... Buffy was only sixteen, far too young for government or military work.

Oh God, was her daughter involved in some sort of illegal organization, maybe a spy network? But why Buffy? Neither Joyce not Hank had any contact with sensitive information. Maybe it was some sort of cult? How had she missed this?

She was definitely going to have to get into better shape. If her daughter was involved with something, not only would it be hard to drag her back out, there might be more people that would try to apply pressure by going after people close to Buffy. She would have to enroll Dawn in some self defense classes, and that work out room was becoming more of a priority all the time. She didn't want to be helpless again.

And she would just have to tell Buffy not to have anything more to do with that girl Darla. She was a bad influence.

end Messed Up Family 3: A Bad Influence


	4. Mister Wrong

rating: pg 13  
  
main character: Joyce, Ted the Robot  
  
appearances by Buffy   
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now moving into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
note: the episode 'Ted" originally occurred in season 2, I am making it occur earlier in this AU. Buffy is still a sophomore (season 1). Some dialog from the episode 'Ted' has been used, found at studiesinwords.de/buffy.html - a BtVS transcripts site.  
  
Joyce sighed, trying to remember how in the world she'd ended up in this situation. Oh yes, her darling daughters had concluded that since she wasn't going to get back together with Hank, she needed to find a new man. So, they'd managed to convince her to try dating again, and she'd joined a singles organization. She'd met Ted online first, and they'd chatted a bit, not about anything serious, but a few things. Then, she'd agreed to met him at one of the weekend get together's the club held.  
  
Ted wasn't that hard to find, they'd given some bits of description about each other over the internet, after all. He wasn't terribly tall, and seemed to have the sort of face that would be described as 'nice'. He seemed a bit shy, with older style manners, more like the way the fathers of her friends when she was Buffy's age used to act. The sort of manners that people today really didn't use. It raised questions for her, little bothersome questions. And he didn't smell right. She couldn't explain it, but... his scent was just not right, like he wasn't human, wasn't alive. But that was impossible, wasn't it?  
  
They chatted about little things, about the weather, about the change in the world from earlier times, about the price of fresh fruit and how it all had warning labels now days. He seemed... well, she couldn't put it into words, but there was something slightly off about him.  
  
Over dessert, he'd asked her if they could get together over the weekend, suggesting " Why not get together for miniature golf? Some good, clean wholesome fun for everyone. Surely it would be good for you to get out, and it's safe and enjoyable for your girls as well. You said they were sixteen and twelve?"  
  
She'd looked at him, smiling around the chocolate cake. "Yes, sixteen and twelve... They might go for that. And it's been a long time since I've dated... Why not? Saturday? We could meet at the place at maybe one?"  
  
Maybe he wouldn't be so bad, maybe things could look up a bit. Maybe he was just a nice guy.  
  
But if he wasn't, she would be watching, and listening.  
  
Saturday rolled around, and despite her misgivings, Joyce was there, with both of her daughters. Buffy seemed determined not to like Ted. Maybe she was still hoping that there would be a reconciliation with Hank, but it was definitely something. Dawn seemed a bit more open minded about the matter, but still a bit nervous.  
  
Buffy seemed to be having a rough day, and one of her shots went into the brush around the edges. She just looked so miserable, so frustrated and annoyed. "It's okay honey. We don't have to count that one."  
  
Ted looked at her, a small frown firmly in place. "What? Not count it? I think that would be wrong."  
  
"Well, it's just miniature golf." Ted sounded a bit upset, and Joyce wondered why he was reacting like this. Wasn't the point of today to allow her daughters to get to know him and him to get to know her family?  
  
"It is, but the rules are the rules. And what we teach her is what she takes out into the world when we're not there, whether it's at school or an unchaperoned party." He looked at Buffy, his voice sounding as if he was trying to smooth her ruffled temper. "I don't mean to overstep my bounds, this is between you and your mother, I just think right is right."  
  
Something seemed off, he wasn't... he wasn't reacting quite right. And his scent hadn't changed at all. But it didn't have the same strangeness that Darla's had carried. Buffy always did seem to be trying to bend the rules... " He has a point."  
  
Buffy glared at Ted, her eyes flashing with emotions. Joyce could almost taste the anger rolling off of her daughter. With one hand on her hip, she looked at Ted. "Fine. I'll just go hit my ball from the rough."  
  
Buffy stomped off into the underbrush, disappearing behind the castle. Ted followed more slowly, and Joyce and Dawn both fell quiet. Down looked worried, and it was hard to say if it was because of Buffy's mood or her mother's 'date'. Joyce bit her lip, trying to listen to what was going on.  
  
There was a faint sound, like a golf ball rolling around in the little cup, and then Buffy's voice rang back. "Hey, how about that! Got a hole in two!"  
  
Ted had followed Buffy, beyond the range of where Joyce could see, and his voice when he spoke was eerily calm. Almost emotionless, but there was a faint hint of something, almost like annoyance. "Beg to differ."  
  
Buffy's voice was filled with a forced casualness. "Okay, so fine my score or whatever."  
  
"I think you're missing the point here, little lady. Right is right, wrong is wrong. Why don't people see that?" Ted's voice had gone entirely flat.  
  
"It's just a game?" Buffy's voice had a question to it, as if she was confused about something.  
  
"Right, it's just a game, do your own thing, well, I'm not wired that way. And I am here to tell you " The tapping of his golf club against his ankle was getting harder, and it almost sounded as if there was metal ringing against metal. "It is not a game! It does count, and I don't stand for that kind of malarkey in my house!"  
  
"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not in your house." Her voice was almost sarcastic, and there was a faint hint of fear in t he air.  
  
"Do you want me to slap that smart-ass mouth of yours?" His voice was cold, with a bit of anger, but... there was still no scent of any emotion from Ted.  
  
Honestly, the rest of the afternoon was a blur. There were cookies that Ted had brought, but they tasted off, and made her stomach twist in a way that reminded her of her irresponsible travels with Moonbeam and Rowan. She let the rest of the cookie fall back into her purse, no longer hungry. He'd threatened to hit her daughter, spoke of Buffy living in his house. Things seemed to be spiraling terribly out of control.  
  
Everything seemed incredibly blurry for the rest of the weekend. She tried to think, to consider what would her dad say about Ted? Well, after saying that the man needed to get a bit more exercise and had a sissy job selling software.  
  
He would tell her that nobody had the right to come into her life and threaten her family like that. That Ted was threatening her children would possibly lead to him threatening her, and that he didn't raise his daughter to let somebody push her around. Then, he'd probably threaten to gut Ted on general principles. She'd never quite figured out if those threats were serious or not...  
  
She was still trying to figure out why he would threaten her daughter like that when Ted arrived at the art gallery.  
  
"Hey, Joyce. I thought maybe I could take you out to dinner? Sort of an apology for things going so awkwardly on Saturday..." His voice sounded sincere, almost nice.   
  
"Ted..." She forced herself to offer a tiny smile. "I think... maybe we need to have a talk."  
  
"Not a problem, just slide in. How about Italian?" He made a little gesture towards the passenger seat.  
  
"Italian's just fine... where did you have in mind?" She wondered just what he was up to.  
  
"We're going home, sweetie. You've been out long enough. Time to go home." His voice was even, calm.  
  
He was driving too fast for her to jump out, so Joyce waited, trying to control her emotions. Ted had gone crazy... that had to be the explanation. And as soon as he stopped the car, even for a red light, she would be out the door.  
  
There were no delays, and he made it to his house before stopping. She flung open the door and leapt out, her heart hammering and her mouth sour tasting. Had her years with Hank left her entirely blind to trouble?  
  
Hard fingers grabbed her arm, and she was pulled to a halt. Ted was looking at her, his face blankly calm. "You aren't leaving me again, honey."  
  
With a growl, she raised her knee, feeling it connect to him hard. But he didn't fall, didn't even whimper, a fact which caused the hairs on her neck to rise and prickle.  
  
He squeezed at her arm, his eyes narrowed. "That wasn't very nice. You've been a very naughty woman, honey."  
  
She slashed at his face, not the open handed slap that it looked like, but a raking, ripping motion, intended to hurt and draw blood. Scalp wounds always bled a lot, if he couldn't see... Instead of blood, there was a shower of sparks, and there were exposed wires and bits of metal.  
  
Letting go of her arm, he hit her, his fist connecting to her cheek hard enough to leave her seeing spots. "No more of this rebellion. Right is right... Wrong is wrong. Have a cookie."  
  
Snarling, Joyce attacked, her recently renewed practice a big help. More sparks were joined by smoke, and she ripped and shredded at him, leaving him a mass of exposed metal and bits of wiring. One robotic hand spasmed, opening and closing, the arm snapped in the middle.  
  
She was breathing heavy as she stared at the pieces, feeling bruises over her body, and her lip bleeding. "Hate to tell you this Ted, but I have to break things off with you."  
  
A brief search of his workshop produced an axe, which she then used to hack Ted into small chunks. She took special care to shatter anything that looked like a power source or important circuitry. Leaving the axe against the house, she frowned. His home smelled of death, of long dead things.  
  
She took the axe with her, and used her cell phone to dial in an 'anonymous' call to the local police, claiming that she'd heard screaming from the house, giving Ted's address. Best keep the axe, it would have her finger prints all over it. And it might be useful if Darla ever came back.   
  
Ted had most definitely not been the man for her. He'd pretty much been Mister Wrong, and it was a good thing that he wouldn't be coming back. She almost wished that she could try something similar on Hank, it had been remarkably stress relieving.  
  
She would just tell Dawn and Buffy that things with Ted hadn't worked out, and he'd... they'd separated. She allowed herself a giggle at that.. separated... Ted was all in pieces now. Definitely separated. And she should calm down before her daughters saw her like this.  
  
end Mister Wrong. 


	5. Explanations

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg 13  
  
main character: Joyce, Angel  
  
mention of Victor Creed (Sabertooth)  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS, and no legal rights to Sabertooth.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now moving into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
  
  
  
  
Joyce sighed, hating the long hours that she had to put into the gallery. Buffy was... she didn't quite know what Buffy was doing with all of her time, but it involved Rupert Giles and violence. At least she'd arranged for Dawn to have a few lessons to keep her occupied after school. Karate and piano, both of which Dawn had been asking for for years. So, her daughters wouldn't be sitting at home bored. She just wished that the Opening for the local artist hadn't gone quite so late.  
  
This town just seemed... off. There were always strange scents in the air, and not all of the people smelled quite right. Both good reasons to be getting back into shape, even without the possibility of Darla showing up again, and the disaster of Ted. No, there was just something here that set her nerves on edge.  
  
Footsteps, almost to soft to be heard, following her. A scent on the air, teasingly familiar if she could place it, and he reached out, his fingers touching her arm. She didn't pause, didn't try to identify him, she just reacted, spinning around, grabbing his arm, and slamming him against the fence, arm twisted behind his back. It was only then that her mind produced the identity of him, a name to go with the scent. This was Angel, the man that had been in Buffy's room, the man that Darla had taunted and flung her into, bleeding from her throat. He wasn't quite human.  
  
"Why are you following me?" She tried to keep from growling, tried to keep her temper under control.  
  
"Buffy takes after you after all." His words were a bit low, the slight tone of someone being just a bit squished. He tried to push back, to get free from her grip, and settled again, clearly unhappy. "Can you let go? I won't... I'm not here to hurt you."  
  
"Why are you here?" She let go, stepping back, her muscles tense, ready to fight if he proved hostile.  
  
"I had been intending to tell you that Sunnydale isn't exactly safe at night, but on second thought, you seem to be able to take care of yourself. You've been working out a bit." He shook his head a bit, rubbing his shoulder with a small frown.  
  
"You can thank your ex or what ever she is, Darla for that. She was something of a wake up call. I can't be Hank Summers' protected ex wife anymore. I need to be ready if she comes back. For that matter, what is she? What are you, Angel?" She felt her emotions relax just a bit as he made no moves to attack, but she stayed ready, physically.  
  
"If you can't be the divorced single mother, who will you be? What will help? That's quite a grip you have there..." He looked a bit curious.  
  
She smiled, remembering everything that had brought her here. "I can't let myself drift along, and nobody's going to take care of me. I have to go back to being Daddy's Pumpkin."  
  
"Being your daddy's darling girl will be more helpful than being a protected ex wife?" He looked confused. "What sort of father did you have?"  
  
"My father was in the special forces. I doubt that would mean much to you, considering that you are not an ordinary man, but he was. Victor Creed, of the Marines." She smiled as she remembered her father.  
  
Angel looked as if he'd just simultaneously gone pale and decided to choke on his tongue. After a few moments, he found his voice again. "Victor Creed? But he's... He's not a regular human either."  
  
"Why don't you explain what's going on in this town, and what Darla is?" She could feel herself growing impatient. She had two daughters at home, hopefully working on their homework.  
  
"What's going on with Sunnydale... that would take too long." Angel had this odd, enigmatic almost smile. "The short version, there's a power here, a strong evil. You can practically taste it. It draws things... demons, vampires, weird coincidences. That's what Darla is... was. A vampire. She's dead now, so you don't have to worry about her."  
  
"So, Darla was a vampire, and you are as well. Why are you lurking around my daughter?" She narrowed her eyes, hands flexing just a bit, part of her just wanting to grab him and shake the answers out.  
  
"Buffy... she's the Slayer. It's her destiny to fight the forces of darkness... Giles could give that speech a lot better." He paused, apparently noting her impatience. "She has to fight and kill evil demons and vampires."  
  
"Why is this the 'destiny' of MY daughter?" She had the sinking feeling that this wasn't a criminal network, nor related to any foreign government's illegal intelligence operations. This had a different feel to it. "How did someone decide that Buffy is this... Slayer, anyhow?"  
  
"A Slayer is supposed to have the strength and reflexes to fight vampires, which Buffy does. They heal faster from injuries, which Buffy does." He shrugged slightly, as if uncertain of all the details.  
  
Joyce made a small noise, a mix of annoyance and impatience. "Reflexes and strength, is that it? I just had you against the wall, and I'm not some destined Slayer. I am a mutant. How do you know that Buffy isn't as well?"  
  
For a moment, Angel just looked stunned. "I... have no idea. I'd assumed that the Watcher's Council had made certain, did whatever checks there are, and that Buffy was indeed the destined, Chosen One. She can balance herself on a flagpole and knock someone down from behind, that sort of lends a bit of credibility to Buffy as the Slayer."  
  
"That doesn't sound too difficult. So... you know what's out here, lurking?" Part of her wanted to get information from him, to demand answers - what was out here, how did she keep her daughters safe. Another part was relieved. "And Buffy isn't going out beating up defenseless mutants?"  
  
"Defenseless... ahhh, no." Angel gave a small smile, an expression that looked unpracticed. "Creed's daughter... He wasn't the nicest of guys. As a matter of fact, he used to be an assassin."  
  
"When? How much do you know about my father?" She looked at Angel, wondering what motivated him to try to get rid of the other vampires. Was it some sort of rivalry? A territorial dispute?  
  
"That was almost a hundred and forty years ago. He was working in France and the Germanic Kingdoms... Turned down an offer on Lord Byron once. But..." Angel looked almost reflective.  
  
"Alright, Angel. You are going to start teaching me about these dangers that lurk in Sunnydale. What are they, how do I recognize them, and how do I kill them if they come after me or my daughters." She looked at him, figuring that at least she could get some information.  
  
"What if I just vanished?" He had this almost twinkle in his eyes, as if she was amusing him.  
  
"Unless you can turn into a bat and fly away like the Christopher Lee movies, I can and will hunt you down." There was warning in her voice.  
  
He chuckled, looking as if he was amused in spite of himself. "Fair enough. I can meet you at your gallery, Tuesdays and Thursdays. I can also help you learn sword work."  
  
"I'll be expecting you then." She tried to relax, to look as if she was no longer threatening him.  
  
"One last thing, your father. He's remarkably hard to kill. Don't count him dead unless you've seen the body. Maybe not then." With those words, Angel turned, walking away.  
  
Joyce pondered his words the rest of the way back to her house. Dawn was watching a movie in the living room, the air filled with the scent of popcorn. Buffy had slipped out, again. Her father might not be dead, he'd meant. But if he hadn't been killed, why hadn't he come back?  
  
She was starting to question her father's 'death' all over again. As well as wondering about her mother, and who Julia really was, why she'd left them. She found herself wondering the same things that she'd wrestled with at Buffy's age, and she didn't like it. She wasn't an insecure teenager anymore. But she would get the answers that she needed. And she would try to make sure this 'destiny' stuff checked out.  
  
  
  
But she had a lot of new things to ponder. Vampires and demons were real. Angel was a vampire, and Darla had been as well. That made the rather humiliating ineffective struggle against Darla a bit less embarrassing. Being beaten by a vampire sounded much better than getting beat up by a Catholic school girl. It seemed like a strange new world was about to open up before her. She just hoped that she could keep Dawn and Buffy safe.  
  
end Messed Up Family 5. 


	6. Banishing Nightmares

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main character: Joyce, Angel  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now moving into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
  
  
  
  
Joyce sighed, wishing that she could just cut her hair short and be done with it. It kept falling in the way during her sword lessons. Angel had been surprised at the practice room that she'd set up in the basement of her Gallery, but he'd simply smiled, and made the comment that 'This will be a good place to practice.'  
  
Angel had gradually been explaining about the assorted types of demons, both harmless and dangerous, so that she would have a better idea what was out there. He'd also taken her out to follow Buffy, having her watch a fledgling rise so that she would understand a bit more. So that she would see how new vampires were dangerous, understand why they needed to be slain.   
  
Buffy was still pretending that nothing unusual was going on, that she was just 'studying' with Xander and Willow. If not for Angel, she would be furious and trying to ground her daughter for the rest of Buffy's life. As it was, she was still furious. Just how oblivious did Buffy think she was?  
  
Something had been extremely wrong today. The weather... there had been storms, the sky had gone dark, and... it had been as if her nightmares were coming true. She'd gotten a call that Dawn was in the hospital after being hit by a car during her lunch break, for a few horrible moments Hank had been back, saying that everything wrong in their marriage had been her fault... Graydon had called... Well, no, Graydon had really called, after the recipe for one of the deserts that their mother had made. She'd been so stunned that she'd actually given him the recipe and exchanged a few meaningless politenesses before he'd hung up.  
  
She let herself into the basement, intending to run through her practices until she could face her house without quavering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. The Gallery basement was unlocked, slightly ajar. Sniffing, she caught Angel's scent, and traces of blood. Worried, she opened the door, flipping the light on.  
  
He was curled up in the corner, his body shaking a bit. There were barely audible sobs. The only thing that she could figure was that he'd had the nightmare flashes as well, and they had left him in this state. Walking over, she placed her hand on his back. "Angel?"  
  
He looked up, his lips bloody from his own teeth, yellow eyes bloodshot from crying. It was an entirely unexpected look for the usually controlled vampire. "Today... there were... it was... bad."  
  
She felt almost better knowing that she had been right. "Yes, the nightmare flashes. Things that you'd hoped would never happen did, and now... you're trying to figure out how much was real? Was this another Hellmouth thing?"  
  
"I don't know. I saw... I thought that I'd killed Buffy." The bloody tears had stopped, but his muscles were still quivering.  
  
Joyce felt as if she'd just been hit in the stomach with his words. "You haven't been near her today. Her scent isn't on you, it wasn't real. And if you ever do kill my daughter, I will gut you."  
  
"Thanks for the reassurance." There was a trace of irony in his words, but the feeble smile was real.  
  
"You're welcome. I'd planned to practice until I didn't feel off kilter anymore. There's room for two if you wanted to take the same advice?" She stood up, offering a hand to Angel.  
  
He allowed her to help him up, walking over to pick up the swords. "Your weapon, lady Pumpkin."  
  
Gravely, she accepted the sword. "Thank you."  
  
With that, they began their sparring. Had anyone actually been able to observe them, it would have looked as if they pair were trying to kill each other. Their movements were almost too fast to be human. Then, Angel's lunge caught Joyce's arm, slashing her sleeve and drawing blood.  
  
"No! I didn't..." His look of worry and guilt was almost painful, and his grip on his sword loosened  
  
"Angel! Keep a hold of that damn sword! We didn't start this so that you could brood, and it's hardly a scratch! The point of this is to work into exhaustion so we forget about today." Joyce felt a bit better knowing that he didn't want to hurt her, but if he stopped now and started feeling guilty, soon they'd both be emotional wrecks.  
  
He blinked a moment, his grip on the sword firming. "Right, fighting, not talking or thinking."  
  
Gradually, as they focused more on banishing their memories of the days events, their blows carried more force, their movements becoming less the careful patterns and styles of proper sword-work and more the sort of ruthless motion of predators. They both ended up thrown about the room, bleeding from dozens of minor wounds, feral expressions on their faces as they focused only on their movements and their opponent.  
  
Eventually, they stopped, both too tired to dwell on the day's events. Angel put the swords back on their rack with trembling hands, offering a small smile to Joyce. "Thanks. And I'll have to remember not to do anything inappropriate with your daughter... You'd slice me to ribbons."  
  
She chuckled a bit, the sort of laugh that is preventing sobs and tears. "I want my girls to be safe. I want my girls to have a better family than I did. And this... whatever that happened showed me that hope shredded."  
  
"You're doing a good job with them, Joyce. And I can't imagine what would be crazy enough to try to go through you to attack either of your daughters. Don't despair..." Angel's awkward effort to comfort her helped a little.  
  
"Thanks Angel. Sorry about your shirt..." Joyce frowned a bit, looking over his shredded clothing, the many slashes in his pants, the cuts and bruises on his flesh. She knew that she didn't look much better. "Maybe I should see about getting a shower in here... and possibly some spare clothing. Here's a deal - first person to find an explanation for today tells the other?"  
  
He chuckled, looking at his tattered sleeves. "I have more clothing. And that sounds good... an explanation would be very welcome. I'll see you again Tuesday, Joyce."  
  
She felt much better on her trip home. There was something maybe as high as her waist with tan scales that tried to attack her, drawn by the scent of blood, and two minions, but she had no trouble killing the minions, or scaring away the little tan thing. It had hissed at her before insulting her in French and vanishing into a sewer. She hadn't felt like pursuing it.  
  
None of her injuries were very severe, they should be almost gone by the time that Buffy and Dawn were back from their weekend with Hank. She intended to use that time to do a bit of research. If Giles was the one guiding Buffy for this Slayer thing, then there should be information at his base... the library where Buffy was always 'studying'. She'd just make a little visit there over the weekend...  
  
end Banishing Nightmares. 


	7. Hitting the Books

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Rupert Giles  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now moving into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
The library was quiet, nothing more than the scents of the books and wood polish and a very few people that had been inside marking it as any different than a classroom. Hmmm… Buffy, and Willow and Xander and Giles, a woman that she didn't know, and lingering fainter traces of Angel and a boy. Shaking her head, she opened the door, looking at the library. Goodness, the place was impressive. Far nicer than the library of any high school that she'd ever seen before, and so many books… The school district must have paid a fortune for this room, and nobody was using it.  
  
Except for Mr. Giles and this whole Slayer thing that they'd dragged her daughter into. Except for the Englishman who was sending one of her daughters out to fight demons and vampires. She was rather annoyed about that whole thing, actually.  
  
She walked deeper into the library, and tried to find which sections the scents were strongest in, what books were the most frequently consulted. Reaching the right area, she pulled a book from the shelf at random, allowing it to fall open in her hands. Engraved images of a horrible thing like an upright lizard with a tongue curled almost into a knot stared up at her, with a listing of the method it used to hunt and devour people. There was a note card between the pages, with traces of Buffy's scent and a few scrawled words 'Giles, found it, dismembered it. Can I just say that stank really, really bad? Like rotten gym socks.'  
  
She felt herself trembling, part of her wanting to rip the librarian apart for sending her daughter out against something like that. Another part wondered if perhaps Buffy wanted to help make the world a safer place. Was this her daughter's choice, or some mistaken idea of destiny shoved at her by stuffy people in suits?  
  
She heard the footsteps as someone entered the library, automatically analyzing the sounds and scent. Full grown man, walking calmly, scent of tea and lemon and old leather… "Rupert Giles. I have a few questions for you."  
  
"Ahh… Mrs. Summers. How unexpected. What is it that I can…" He looked a bit surprised, but polite. Then, his gaze dropped to the book she was holding, and he became a bit nervous. "umm… I'm not certain that book would be to your tastes."  
  
She smiled slightly, an expression that she'd carefully copied from her mother years ago. A smile that held a trace of malice, but no warmth. "Actually, it's been most… interesting. Why are you sending my daughter out to fight demons? She's sixteen years old, she's supposed to be learning who she is and how to do algebra and speak French, not hacking things into bits."  
  
"Err… there is actually a very good explanation. By chance, Mrs. Summers, would you believe me if I were to tell you that vampires are real?" He looked rather off balance, as if he wasn't prepared to have people, especially unhappy mothers, questioning him.  
  
"Actually, Angel already covered that one. He also mentioned that you seem to think Buffy's something called a Slayer. Now, exactly how did you come to this conclusion?" She put the book back on the shelf, moving closer to him as she spoke.  
  
He frowned, placing the pair of books and his cup of tea down on the nearby table. "If Angel mentioned the Slayer to you, surely he explained that she has the strength and reflexes to fight vampires? Buffy has those abilities. Can you offer any other explanation?"  
  
If anything could be a better opening line, she couldn't imagine it at the moment. "Actually, yes. Have you by any small chance heard about mutants? People with different abilities due to abnormal genetics? Able to… say, shoot lasers from their eyes, or throw cars, or outrun motorcycle gangs?"  
  
"I have heard of mutants, of course. But the odds of running into a mutant with precisely the sort of abilities that would lead to potential confusion with a Slayer are…" He had the oddest look, as if he was not quite certain anymore what was going on.  
  
"Right." She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear and out of her eyes yet again. "So… Buffy's strong enough to fight with Angel, and flexible enough to do a back flip, that makes her the Slayer? Hah. I can do that. You see, I happen to be a mutant. I inherited that from my father, who was actually much more dangerous and scary than I could hope to be, and it sounds as if Buffy has inherited that from me."  
  
There was a small flicker, and two somethings immediately flew her direction, and there was a flicker of fear in his scent. She grabbed the tiny object, figuring that she could look at it later, and caught the knife with a frown. "A knife? Please. It takes a bit more than that to convince me that Buffy has some dreadful destiny."  
  
Glancing at the smaller object, she saw a golden cross on a chain. Did he think that she was actually a vampire? Carefully, she held up her hand, displaying the lack of burns. "See? No burns."  
  
She then tossed the cross towards what looked like a reinforced dartboard, the knife following close enough that it caught the chain and embedded near the bulls eye. "If you get my daughter hurt with this, I am going to be furious with you."  
  
He stared at the knife, blinking. "B-but Buffy didn't mention anything about this."  
  
"I hadn't told her. Hank wanted everything to be normal, and I was never quite certain why Buffy kept getting into fights in Los Angeles. I was afraid that she was taking after her uncle."  
  
"Her uncle? Why would that be a bad thing?" Giles had picked his tea back up, looking most unhappy about something.  
  
"My brother went into politics. I have many objections to his political platform. One of the last things that I want would be either of my daughters taking after Graydon Creed." She sighed, suddenly certain that this man wasn't trying to get her daughter killed. She still didn't like the sound of the whole 'Slayer' thing.  
  
"Graydon Creed? But… isn't he… err, associated with the Friends of Humanity?" He looked rather startled.  
  
"Yes. That would be my brother. I don't want my daughters picking up his prejudiced views." Joyce leaned against the shelf, hoping that she could raise a pair of decent, hard working daughters.  
  
"Goodness." He ran one hand through his hair, staring into his tea cup. "I can see why you wouldn't want them to take after him. Are you certain that Buffy is a mutant?"  
  
"No, but it's entirely possible and reasonable sounding. Much more so to me than her being this… one girl out of the whole world suddenly picked by fate. A simple genetic test could tell for certain." Joyce looked at him, noticing the ink staining his fingers, the way that he looked as if some heavy weight rested on his shoulders.  
  
"I suppose that it does sound reasonable. But… the importance of a Slayer…" He shook his head, apparently not quite certain how to explain.  
  
Joyce stood up, moving towards the door. "I know. Angel told me about the whole fighting the forces of darkness part. She's still my little girl, and I want her to be safe."  
  
Joyce had a lot of things to think about as she left the library. Dawn and Buffy were still with Hank, so she would have time to figure out how to explain to them both. It was time that they knew about their heritage. But how to explain to them that their mother was a mutant? She might just try to not go into the part where Hank was mistaken about her age by fourteen years…  
  
End Hitting the Books. 


	8. Buffy Interlude:  Never A Dull Moment

Never a Dull Moment  
  
author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main character: Buffy - no pairings.  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Buffy or Hank Summers - they are property of Joss Whedon. I have no legal rights to Scott and Jean, they belong to the X-Men Movie and everyone who owns a peice of it.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula - anyone else ask first.  
  
note: set during season 1 in the 'My Messed up Family' AU. Dawn exists, but is not the Key. She is 4 years younger than Buffy. Joyce is the daughter of Vic Creed (Sabertooth).  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy sighed, wishing that she didn't feel quite so awkward. This was her one weekend a month with her dad, why did she feel so... Well, it almost felt like she didn't really belong in his life. Like she and Dawn were sort of unwelcome reminders of something that he was trying to move past. It had hurt so bad when he and mom had been arguing all the time, and she'd wondered if it was partly her fault. Her 'wild ways' at school, sneaking out to go Slaying... It had been such a hassle trying to hide that from everybody. And now she was here, for a weekend with her father.  
  
A weekend where she could pretend that she was normal. That she was like every other teenage girl. Why didn't it make her happier?  
  
It didn't feel like home here anymore. Everything that had been one of her mom's touches was gone. The family pictures had been taken down. The house didn't smell that same any more, as goofy as that sounded.  
  
Dad took them ice skating. It almost felt like old times, and the ice made everything feel better. Less hectic, less confused, just the cool ice and motion. She smiled, wondering if things might not be quite so bad after all.  
  
Naturally, that was when something blasted in part of the wall. Bits of metal and paint flew everywhere, and a rush of heat came roiling in, the air shimmering with it. She could see a hovering person with wild dark hair, and a red haired woman and a guy with some sort of weird visor dressed in black leather. They looked like they were in the middle of some sort of fight. It only took a few heartbeats to figure out what was going on. They were mutants. And they were having a big, nasty fight right there.  
  
Pulling off her skates, Buffy moved closer, trying to figure out what was going on. Beyond mutants and fire. The pair in black leather seemed to be used to working together, and the floating dude threw a ball of fire at them. To her surprise, it bounced off the air in front of them. That's when she saw the guy with a crowbar sneaking up behind the woman with red hair. Taking a deep breath, Buffy made her way over, and grabbed crowbar guy, ending up in a rather nasty scuffle with him that tore her sleeve and left her with the aches of new bruises.  
  
She heard sirens, and red and visor guy just sort of exchanged a look and vanished, leaving floating fire guy dropped in a heap. Apparently, they didn't want to stay for questions. Taking the hint, Buffy tossed crowbar guy over next to his friend, and slipped back into the ice rink, delighted to find that everyone was so busy making certain they were okay that they didn't appear to have noticed her side trip.  
  
"I'm sorry about that girls. If I'd known there would be trouble making mutants here, I would have taken you shopping instead." Her dad sounded worried, and almost angry. As if the problem was their day being interrupted, not the hole in the wall. Or like it had been some coordinated effort from all the mutants involved…  
  
Buffy blinked. Her dad didn't like mutants. She'd known that, but it just seemed to hit her harder at that moment. What would he do if he learned that she was the Slayer? Would he wig out and call her a freak? She felt very cold inside at the idea of it. Would she still be daddy's girl if he knew? She wasn't certain, and that doubt hurt.  
  
She still felt a bit off, like she was reacting a moment too slow to everything. Dad took them shopping the next day, to one of the malls. He'd just agreed to take Dawn into the music store, and Buffy had picked up a mocha from the little food court. Looking for a table, she spotted a red haired woman in a clingy gray dress, and a cute guy with… red sunglasses. Could they be the mutants from the ice skating rink?  
  
Walking over, Buffy settled at the table next to them, looking at the couple as she sipped her drink. She had no doubts that they were a couple, the whole little hand holding thing, the sappy look on the redhead's face, the way the guy seemed to be glaring at her… whoops.  
  
"You know, I think we sort of bumped into each other the other day. At the ice rink. I'm Buffy." She smiled, trying to seem cheerful and harmless.  
  
For a moment, it looked like they were going to try to convince her that no, she hadn't seen them. But the woman shook her head slightly, and the man sighed, facing her again. "This is Jean Grey, and I'm Scott Summers."  
  
Buffy felt a moment of wild shock. "Did you say… Summers? Because that's sort of freaky. I'm Buffy Summers. And if you're a Summers… does that mean we're related somehow?"  
  
Scott's jaw dropped a bit. "I'm not sure. I sort of… lost track of my family. But if you are related to me… chances are that you might not have a very peaceful life."  
  
"Tracing relatives isn't really my strong point… I can talk to my mom about it though. And you know… isn't peaceful another word for dull?" Buffy tried for humor to cover her confusion. Wasn't mutation a genetic thing? If Scott was her relative, did that mean her dad was a mutant? Or maybe Dawn? This trip was definitely going different than she'd expected.  
  
"Buffy?"   
  
Her dad's voice carried over the people, and Buffy stood up. "Sorry, got to go before Dad's blood pressure sky rockets. It was… something meeting you two."  
  
She was definitely going to have to ask mom a few questions about her family after she got home from this. The whole thing was weird. And what was up with the red glasses of his anyhow?  
  
End Never a Dull Moment. 


	9. A Family Talk

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Buffy, Dawn  
  
number eight in the 'Messed Up Family' universe, takes place after 'Never a Dull Moment'.  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
Joyce was nervous, and kept trying to figure out how she would explain this to her daughters. Explain to them that they had mutant heritage, that she was a mutant. With a bit of luck, they wouldn't panic, wouldn't hate her and demand to be able to live with Hank, with their oh-so-human father.  
  
But it wasn't a discussion that she wanted to have until she was absolutely certain that Hank Summers was on his way back to Los Angeles. His prejudices and intolerance were one of the many things that she's disliked about him. No, she didn't want her ex-husband to know about her mutation. With a sigh, she tossed the empty bottle of hair dye. She'd been coloring her hair a lighter blond for the past few years, trying to keep the idea that she was aging normally, but there really wasn't much point in that now. Let it go back to it's natural vibrant amber gold, and she'd stop wearing the hairstyles that emphasized the idea of grown up - bordering on middle age. No more efforts to look older.  
  
Unsurprisingly, Hank didn't notice anything different about her. Not the return of her muscle tone, or the lack of the layers of make up that she'd worn to maintain the image of house-wife and gallery owner. He'd been muttering something as he helped Dawn carry her things in, something about ice skating and complications. He barely had anything to say to her before he was leaving, driving away as if he couldn't wait for the image of them to vanish from his rear view mirror.  
  
"Mom, you wouldn't believe what happened at the skating rink!" Dawn sounded almost breathless with excitement. "There were mutants! And fireballs, and broken walls..."  
  
Joyce listened to the unfolding tale of their trip ice skating, her eyes wide and her stomach tense. Her daughters could have been hurt! Who would have kept them safe, Hank? That was a laughable thought... "Neither of you got hurt, I hope."  
  
"Umm...." Buffy sort of shifted in her seat, her fingers playing with a lock of her hair as she tried to figure out a way to say whatever it was that she was trying to say. "I sort of saw two of them at the mall. The ones that had been in the black leather, which looked very good. Can I get some leather pants? But, mom, the guy's name is Scott Summers. Is he some sort of relative, on dad's side?"  
  
Joyce could feel herself start laughing, knowing that her girls wouldn't quite understand what was so amusing. "Related to Hank? Oh my... Your father can't stand the idea of mutants... the idea would drive him crazy."  
  
"Why do I have the feeling that I'm missing half the punch-line?" Dawn's question recaptured Joyce's attention.  
  
"That's... part of what I wanted to talk to you two about. It started because I was worried about you, Buffy. Sneaking out at night and getting into fights... I really wish that you'd been willing to trust me about this whole Slayer thing. As it is, I had to go get answers out of your librarian. I'm still not convinced that they've got the right girl..." Joyce shook her head. Her daughter, fighting demons. It was not the sort of thing that would make any good mother happy.  
  
"Mom! But... you... how?" Buffy looked shocked. "Do you have another explanation for everything then?"  
  
"I think it's a bit more likely that you're a mutant, not this... Slayer." Joyce sighed, knowing that the explanation was going to end up rather complicated. Dawn leaned back in her chair, as if she was hoping to encourage everyone to forget that she was there so that she could watch everything unfold. Joyce just sighed, deciding to let Dawn watch. Hadn't there been enough secrets?  
  
"A mutant? Isn't that... sort of far-fetched?" Buffy wrinkled her nose, as if she was trying not to say that she thought her mom was crazy.  
  
Joyce leaned on the chair, resting her chin on her hand. "Not at all. It's genetic, you know. And since I happen to be a mutant - and no, Hank doesn't know - then both of you could be mutants. It seems far more likely that you just inherited more than my cheekbones and complexion than the idea that out of close to two billion young women in the world, fate decided to make your life miserable."  
  
"You're a mutant? And you never told dad... okay, that makes sense, but... do you shoot lasers from your eyes? Fireballs? And how would that make someone think that I'm a Slayer?" Buffy looked as if she was fascinated in spite of herself.  
  
"No, no fireballs or lasers. And I can't fly or turn purple, or just zap away stains on clothing." Joyce smiled. "All of my abilities are physical, and I rather let them slip when I was married to your father... seems he didn't want an amazon wife. I have enhanced strength, speed, reflexes and senses."  
  
Buffy blinked, looking intensely thoughtful. Sadly, it wasn't an expression that Joyce was used to seeing on her daughter. "How much is enhanced? Because... strong like dad isn't enough to be mistaken for a Slayer."  
  
"I don't know the maximum that I can lift, the weight set that I got only goes up to five hundred." Joyce felt herself smiling just a little. Buffy needed to know that she wasn't the only one who could keep secrets. "I do know that it's quite enough to keep your friend Angel on his toes when we spar. He's very good with a sword, by the way."  
  
"Sparring with Angel?!? But, mom! He's... he's a vampire! You can't just..." Buffy looked stunned and worried.  
  
"I know he's a vampire, he already mentioned that. As if that dreadful Darla wasn't enough of a clue..." Joyce shook her head, still annoyed that Darla had nearly killed her so easily. "We've been sparring for a little while. He is strong, but not faster."  
  
"But... but... a mutant?" Buffy was blinking, looking confused and worried and sort of hopeful. "How come you're a mutant?"  
  
Joyce smiled, feeling entirely confident about that one. "Oh, I inherited it from my father. He was... oh, goodness, he'd be much more intimidating than I am. He was in the military, and reported dead on a mission when I was your age. Seven foot four inches, blond hair, sort of greenish hazel eyes... He kept scaring away all the guys I was interested in. He was a mutant, although nobody ever said so, and I inherited all these abilities from him."  
  
Dawn piped up, curiosity filling her voice. "But how did Dad not know any of this?"  
  
"Because I didn't meet your father until I was in college. He was a couple years ahead of me, and I didn't go to college in the same town that I'd grown up in." Joyce sighed, shaking her head a little. "My older brother went right into a local college and got a degree in law... we'd sort of had one to many fights and weren't really talking anymore. We lost touch, and I don't think he's made any efforts to regain it."  
  
"We have an uncle? Who is he?" Buffy frowned just a little.  
  
"Graydon Creed. He's gone into politics now..." Joyce sighed, wishing yet again that her brother hadn't grow up to be such an ass.  
  
Dawn wrinkled her nose. "The anti-mutant guy? But he's a jerk!"  
  
Buffy's reaction wasn't much more favorable. "He's this cranky, obnoxious, old guy. Do we have to admit that he's related?"  
  
"Do we have to claim him? I haven't claimed him for the eighteen years that I used Summers as a last name, or the three years that I knew Hank before our marriage. Or any of the time... well, I took a bit of a break between when I graduated and college, and I certainly didn't mention my brother the lawyer. You don't have to claim your uncle Graydon. But I figured that you should know." She looked at her daughters, feeling pleased that they both thought her brother was an intolerant jerk, which of course, he was.  
  
"But mom, he's ancient! There had to have been this huge gap between him and you..." Dawn looked like she was thinking of something unpleasant.  
  
Joyce smiled a little, not certain that she wanted to go into that. "He's a bit older than me, but... He's not ancient." She paused, counting up the years to figure out her real age, and then adding two more for Graydon. "He's only... well, he did turn fifty five this year. I suppose he isn't young anymore."  
  
"Ancient." Dawn's pronouncement had as much solemn-ness as a twelve year old could manage.  
  
"Well, I guess it's cool that I don't have to try to hide the whole Slaying thing anymore, but... Is there a mutant explanation for the Slayer dreams?" Buffy's voice sounded wistful.  
  
Joyce looked at her older daughter, frowning slightly. "What Slayer dreams? Angel didn't mention anything about dreams, and neither did Giles."  
  
"Prophetic dreams of big scary evils." Buffy sounded unhappy. "And since you look like this is the first you've heard, I guess I am stuck as the Slayer. Yay me."  
  
"Buffy... I'm here for you. No matter what." Joyce wanted to give Buffy a hug and make everything better, but there were some things that a hug just wouldn't fix.  
  
end A Family Talk. 


	10. A Walk in the Cemetery

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Buffy  
  
number eight in the 'Messed Up Family' universe, takes place after 'Never a Dull Moment'.  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
Joyce hid a smile as Buffy tried to find something that she really needed to do at home that night. Buffy had figured out that she really hadn't convinced her mother that she WAS the Slayer, and had uttered the infamous words - 'Seeing is believing'. Now, she was trying to think of any reason why her mother shouldn't go with her on a patrol.  
  
"But, don't you need a good night's sleep for your job tomorrow? I mean, workday, and early to bed, early to rise..." Buffy was trying yet again, even as she looked for the second half of a pair of knee high brown boots.  
  
Joyce chuckled at that one. "You mean, I should stay home, awake and wondering what my daughter is doing? If you're beating up people that you shouldn't, or if this time, the blood on your shirts is going to be yours?"  
  
"This isn't working, is it?" Buffy had a look of annoyance, as if she had really expected to talk her mother into staying home.  
  
"No, it won't. Dawn is staying in, and you think that this will convince me that you're a Slayer instead of a mutant. Not that either one sounds like a safer option with you..." She sighed, tucking a knife along the side of her boot. Would a sword be a bit much? She didn't want to disturb her daughter too much... Probably best to take it anyhow, considering what Angel had said about demons.  
  
Buffy sighed, trying to glare in frustration. "Just so you know, this is under protest. You're supposed to be planning a new exhibit, not getting attacked in cemeteries."  
  
Joyce smiled, recognizing Hank's sulking strategies. "Your protest is duly noted and being given the same consideration that you give me when I say that you're wearing too much make up."  
  
"Mom!" Buffy's outraged word wasn't quite a protest, nor quite whining, but it was a definite sign that she knew exactly what her mother meant. 'I hear what you just said and am going to do this anyhow.'  
  
In a few minutes, they were walking towards one of the many cemeteries in Sunnydale. Buffy kept looking at her, as if she was expecting panic and hysteria at the first sign of danger. Sighing, Joyce wondered where her daughter had got the idea that she was so helpless. "Buffy, how do you normally know when there's a vampire?"  
  
"I can feel them. It's sort of like a tingling, you know, like Spiderman." Buffy seemed to relax just a little. "I don't really know what causes it, Giles says it a sort of Slayer-vibe kind of thing, only he uses a lot more words."  
  
Joyce shook her head, wondering how anyone over the age of twenty was supposed to make sense of sentences like that. "A Slayer vibe thing. I thought maybe it was just that they smell different."  
  
"Right... smelling them. Can I just say ick?" Buffy shook her head.  
  
Joyce caught the scent at the same time Buffy gasped out 'Mom! Vampires!' That gave a few seconds warning, and they were attacked by six vampires, all smelling of blood and earth and death. Minions with no access or inclination to shower, obviously... She let herself flow into the moment, her sword slicing through the minions swiftly and efficiently. She caught glimpses of her daughter, kicking and punching, her only apparent weapon a sharpened bit of wood. And then the vampires were dead, and Buffy was looking around.  
  
"Where did the others go? I only got three, I know there were six..." Buffy looked in a circle, and paused, looking at the scattering of dust. "Mom, did you... did you kill a vampire with that sword?"  
  
Joyce sighed, starting to get the feeling that this would be a long night. "No, Buffy. I killed three vampires with this sword."  
  
"You killed three vampires? Mom, that's... but... never mind." Buffy looked shocked, as if this was something that she'd never even considered. "Let's keep going. Apparently, there was a questionable body found yesterday, buried in the back as a John Doe. Funny thing, all his blood was gone."  
  
"How do you know that? Is this some Slayer thing?" Joyce wanted to know as much of this as she could. Partly because she still had her doubts about the idea that Buffy was this Slayer and partly because she wanted her daughter to be safe.  
  
"umm... not exactly. Willow hacked into the Coroner's records." Buffy shrugged.  
  
Joyce frowned, wondering what else Willow might be doing with her computers. An entire host of things came to mind... "Buffy, should there be anything going on over there in a cemetery at this hour?"   
  
"Big nope for that... spidey sense is all tingly... I'm going to say bad guys." Buffy looked tense, and started to creep closer to the figures. Closer inspection showed that there were seven of them, each in long, hooded robes that stank of old blood and hung in stiff folds.  
  
These weren't the same type though. Only two of them were vampires, the others were something else, reeking like badly cured leather. Whatever they were, they were strong. She and Buffy were both working hard to keep from being injured, and then the one that she'd just skewered inconsiderately toppled to the ground, taking her sword with him.  
  
The vampire that had been behind it sneered at her, fangs distorting his words a little, his expression saying that even in a fight, he was imagining her naked. "Now what are you going to do, bitch?"  
  
Joyce growled, feeling her temper rise. She had better things to do than let some vampire insult her. Her foot lashed out, and she attacked, eyes narrowed. The vampire seemed oddly unsettled by her sudden offensive surge, and especially by the force of her blows. Of course, simply hitting him wouldn't kill a vampire, and she wasn't certain if he'd take the moment to run or recover if he pulled another knife. She had an idea, but there would be a few down sides to it... But then again, their clothing was already bloody, it was too late to worry about that.  
  
Her father had told her once, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Through the stomach, and up under the ribcage. Hopefully, removing his heart would kill him. The pain of it certainly seemed to work, and he began crumbling to dust even as she pulled out her fist, the still organ clenched within. Terrible for her manicure, of course, but there were priorities in life. No sense having perfect looking nails if you were dead, after all.  
  
She tossed the heart onto the grave, and reached for her sword, intent on reclaiming it from the demon's corpse. Daddy's pumpkin was back, with a vengeance.  
  
"Mom? That was really impressive and sort of gross. Where did you... do I even want to know how you got his heart out?" Buffy was looking at her, a wisp of blond hair falling in her eyes.  
  
"Buffy... Haven't you heard? The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." She felt the smile, all too similar to the ones that her father had once used, smiles that had accompanied some what dark and morbid jokes.  
  
Buffy looked as if she had a momentary debate over laughter or dismay, and the laughter won. "Mom... that's just... way too literal. And I promise not to assume that you're helpless ever again. Nothing like seeing someone get their heart ripped out to say not so warm and fuzzy."   
  
"I did tell you that I'd been practicing again." She smiled a little, hoping that she could get to know the rest of Buffy, the things that her daughter had tried to hide from her.  
  
"Please tell me that you haven't ripped out hearts before?" Buffy looked at her, something like worry lurking in her eyes.  
  
Joyce shook her head, smiling in the darkness. "No, but I did have to dismember Ted after he tried to kidnap me. He turned out to be a robot, but the separation was rather literal."  
  
"My mom the Amazon..." Buffy smiled a little, apparently having concluded that this would be okay. At least for the moment.  
  
"I just have good genes for it." She had a little bit of a wistful smile as she remembered her childhood. Wouldn't Dad be pleased with Buffy? "You do this every night?"  
  
"Mostly. There are a few nights that I don't, but... there's the whole thing where the bad guys don't care that I have school, and tests. But yeah, full time calling." Buffy sighed, kicking at a clump of grass.  
  
"No wonder you ruin so much clothing." Joyce felt a bit of frustration about the whole mess. "Maybe we need to get you some special outfits for patrolling, so you don't keep ruining your nice clothing."  
  
Buffy almost visibly perked up at that suggestion. "Shopping? Cool!"  
  
end A Walk in the Cemetery. 


	11. From Channel Seven

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Dawn  
  
number eleven in the 'Messed Up Family' universe, takes place after 'Never a Dull Moment'.  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
Dawn was apparently in a bad mood as she made her way into the house, letting the door slam shut behind her with far more force than was needed. She was almost stomping, and just let her backpack fall with a loud thud onto the floor. She was muttering under her breath, insults apparently directed towards one of her teachers, or possibly an obnoxious cow.  
  
"Honey? Is everything alright?" Joyce frowned, wondering why her younger daughter was so upset. Buffy had stayed late to train with Mister Giles, so she would be elsewhere for a few hours, but Dawn didn't normally mind that at all.  
  
"No mom, everything is NOT alright! My teacher is the most obnoxious, arrogant, stupid opinionated..." She stopped, apparently fairly certain that she wasn't supposed to use some of the words that she was almost certainly thinking. "We have to do a report on mutants, and we spent time in class going over some material about them. I've never seen so much anti mutant stuff in one place! And she sent all of us home with burned CD's of assorted news clips of mutant stories!"  
  
Joyce sighed, rubbing at her ear a little bit. Her daughter was a sweet girl, but she could shriek so loudly... Heading into the living room, she tried to calm her daughter down. "Relax, and please stop shouting. I take it that you're supposed to watch this CD, and do a report? What does the report have to be about?"  
  
"Just the mutant issue, in some way, shape, or form." Dawn dropped onto the couch, her arms crossed over her chest, a sullen pout on her face. "I'm pretty sure that I hate her."  
  
"Well, if you want to annoy her, do a nicely organized paper on the parallels of the Friend of Humanity and the Klu Klux Klan. I've got some pamphlets that you can use as references, and the so called logic in them both is... terrible. A couple of them are almost word for word copies of each other." Joyce settled into the chair, looking at her daughter. "I wanted to change the world once, and I spent three years in college thinking that I'd be a Social Worker. I changed my mind about that, but still... I've got a lot of my old stuff still in boxes."  
  
Dawn blinked, the pout fading a bit. "Can I do that?"  
  
"There is no reason why not. She can't grade you lower because of your opinion differing from hers, and if she tries, I will raise such a fuss that she'll look like a moron and be lucky teaching convicted killers in juvenile detention. I will raise as much of a fuss as I need to make certain that nobody gets difficult that you hold a different view than they do."  
  
"We have three weeks. Maybe we can find that box of stuff before we watch the CD of news clippings?" Dawn looked like she was trying to delay things.  
  
After several hours of poking around in the attic, Joyce found the box. It had slightly faded red marker on it, in her own writing that proclaimed ' College Junk', and had a large peace symbol bumper sticker peeling slightly from the side. She smiled a little at the memories of a simpler time, when Hank was a wonderful guy, and life was simple and good. She was a bit curious what all had been packed inside, not quite certain if she remembered everything... and hadn't there been another box of books? Yes, there it was. She ended up having to carry them down, as the boxes were both too heavy for Dawn.  
  
"No more delays, sweetie. Time to watch the news clips." Joyce smiled at her daughter, wondering how Dawn would react to the things in the boxes. She was fairly certain there were some old pictures in some of the books.  
  
After a frustrating ten minutes of fussing and fighting with the computer to make it play the news clips, they got started. There were a few on anti-mutant protests, one on a genetics conference that had a bit of a debate over the impact of genetic mutation from a research standpoint, some from the senate hearings on the proposed Mutant Registration Act, which had thankfully been shot down, and a long list of stories about mutants who's powers caused property damage and fear, or those who were afraid or angry and lashed out.  
  
Then it showed footage from New York, a man in a helmet and a hulking figure facing off against a dozen policemen.  
  
"No..." She felt like she was drunk, although she'd only actually managed that once in her life. The large man, standing behind Magneto... the broad shoulders, the reddish blond hair, the yellow green eyes... "How could you do that to us?"  
  
Dawn reached out, her fingers barely touching her mother's arm. "Mom? What's wrong? You're... you're crying."  
  
"Son of a bitch... they said you were dead." The whisper slipped out, heedless of the fact that she'd forbidden both of her girls from using words like that. The next words were almost screamed at the computer. "They said you died!"  
  
She lurched to her feet, and then she was at the sink, splashing cold water over her face as the hot tears fell from her eyes, her body tense and her throat tight. "You didn't come back... why didn't you come back?"  
  
"mom?" Dawn sounded upset, and her voice was shaking. There was a scent of fear as well, Dawn's fear.  
  
"They said that he died." Her voice sounded oddly wrong, and shaky. "That man... the large one... that's Victor Creed. My father."  
  
And Dawn held her while she cried. The pain of it all was almost too much to bear. Her father was alive, or had been a matter of months ago, at any rate. He'd been alive for the past forty years, and hadn't bothered to let them know, hadn't bothered to tell his children. Hadn't bothered to tell his pumpkin-girl. Why had her father just... abandoned them like that? She'd been so certain that he'd loved her, probably loved Graydon as well, only death could have kept him away. Only, he didn't look dead, and he'd been away.  
  
end From Channel Seven. 


	12. Working Through the Pain

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Dawn  
  
number twelve in the 'Messed Up Family' universe  
  
Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is not the Key, just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank.  
  
  
  
  
  
Joyce had wanted to just keep cursing and weeping and swearing after that horrible painful discovery. That her sorely missed dead father wasn't quite as dead as she'd thought. That he'd somehow or other ended up the sidekick or minion of a mutant terrorist called Magneto. But nobody could cry forever, and the throat could only take so much cursing before it became raw and painful, refusing any more words. She'd stopped sooner than that, worried about Dawn. Eventually, she'd got Dawn calmed enough to go to bed. Pairing that with locking the doors, Joyce had a plan to try to get her emotions back under control. She'd changed, donning an old pair of leather pants that were of a cut just coming back into style, her solid boots, and a shirt that she could cheerfully throw away later, and weapons - several knives, a dozen stakes, and her sword.   
  
Weeping and cursing hadn't helped too much; she was going to try something else. What the well meaning but unsuccessful marital councilor that she and Hank had visited would call 'sharing her feelings'. Right now, she was rather feeling like someone had sunk sharp hooks into her insides and ripped them out.  
  
Buffy was always saying that patrol was hard, maybe she wouldn't mind a bit of help tonight. Or at least, tonight, Joyce was going out of the house, looking for things that needed killed, carefully and generously armed, just itching for some violence. There had to be stupid minion vampires, or some annoying demons trying to eat people...  
  
She started her hunt near the Bronze, taking down nearly a dozen foolish vampires in the surrounding area, and moved along the rather limited section of town that had life after dark, the Bronze, a couple bars, an optimistic tattoo and piercing parlor, a discretely sign less store that smelled of leather and lust. Near a miserable looking bar with a dying neon sign that tried to proclaim 'Willie's Alib', she was attacked by a trio of what she presumed were demons, with scabrous looking ash gray skin and round mouths like giant lampreys. She fought with them, ripping them apart with sword and claws, her worn leather pants still intact, although she hoped the blood wouldn't stain them.  
  
Joyce still felt horrible. Resisting the urge to cry, she made her way to the warehouse section, originally home to the manufacturing, although there were probably only two plants that still operated, out of almost a dozen buildings. The abandoned factories hadn't been torn down, or had anything relocated into them, so they were almost perfect lairs. She was going to try to clean some of them out.  
  
Her jacket was worse for wear, but it had kept her own injuries minimal, and the bleeding had all stopped by the time she'd made her way to the closest cemetery. Several of the factories and warehouses had smelled like they were in use, but had turned out to be empty just then. She'd moved on, wanting something to kill NOW, not something to come back after tomorrow or Friday or next week. But Buffy had been complaining about vampires in the cemeteries...  
  
She stalked through the cemetery, taking down a pair of vampires lurking over a new grave, almost leaving before she heard... something. Scratching noises, and then something else that she couldn't quite place... then a hand emerged from the rough earth heaped over the grave. The new vampire lunged towards her, growling and hungry, falling as dust before he'd even laid claw or fang on her. She kicked at the dust where it clung to a tuft of taller grass, growling a little as she continued prowling through the cemetery.  
  
She caught the scent of a vampire, although this one lacked the stench of soured blood and slow decay. Maybe this would be the one that would make the pain and betrayal more manageable. She slowed, moving slowly, her footsteps almost silent. The vampire looked like he should be in some office, glaring at account ledgers. He was muttering something as he made his way across the cemetery. She could only catch a few words, but they brought her blood back to the boiling point.  
  
"Turaka assassins… Kill that Slayer… expensive, but… skull…"  
  
She felt like the world suddenly… tightened, and everything took on a reddish cast. There was a pulsing roaring noise in her ears, and everything felt… more intense, except for the urge to destroy this… thing that dismissed her daughter's death so casually. Drink from her daughter's skull like a cup would he…. With a feral howl, she pounced on him, her entire being filled with images of violence.  
  
She didn't stop until there was a wide spread of blood and ashes in the area, splattered over some of the graves, and all over her as well. She'd quite thoroughly lost her temper… Perhaps she should try to muster a little regret later.  
  
The wind shifted, and she heard a tiny noise, a soft footstep from behind. Unfortunately, the breeze wasn't carrying the scent to her now, meaning that all she knew was something stealthy was behind her. She spun, drawing her sword in preparation for an attack.  
  
Angel practically jumped, his hands raising in an obvious indication that he wasn't a danger and would rather not be skewered. "Joyce?" You look… ummm."  
  
She lowered the sword, having no reason to attack Angel. "I'm not happy. I just found out my dearly departed father isn't so departed, or at least, not dead. He was in a film clip from earlier this year, shown on a research project for Dawn. Looking entirely alive and well. Naturally, I'm a bit upset…"  
  
"At least this tells me why Buffy's patrol tonight has been so quiet. You've already been killing everything dangerous." Angel had this look, caught between worried and impressed.  
  
Joyce looked at him, flashing what should have been a sweet smile but held all the comfort of light glinting off the sharp edge of a knife. "I've been sharing my feelings. A councilor once suggested I try it."  
  
  
  
A flicker of what Joyce could only describe as pure panic crossed Angel's eyes as he caught sight of the circle of blood and ashes behind her. "Ahhh… that was sharing?"  
  
"No, that was making certain that he wouldn't ever say anything about using MY daughter's skull as a drinking cup again. I lost my temper." She frowned a little. "I should try to feel a little sorrier about it, but he also said something about Turaka assassins. My impression was that they would be sent against Buffy, which I did not like."  
  
"Lost your… Yes, I can see that. Perhaps… I think this cemetery is pretty much emptied out now." Angel avoided direct eye contact or any rapid gestures.  
  
"Hmmm…" Joyce nodded, a small part of her wondering if Angel was afraid of her, or of her temper. "Maybe I should head back home then. I could use a shower."  
  
"I'd noticed." Angel smiled a little, his eyes warming a bit as they slowly traveled down and back up her body. "Leather pants?"  
  
"Worn enough to be supple, and durable enough to give some protection." She glanced at him, wondering if he realized the fact that he was staring almost lustfully. Was it the fact that she was almost covered in blood calling out to his vampire instincts? Was it the leather pants over now toned muscles? Or was it her imagination?  
  
"Good luck finding peace, Joyce." Angel's soft words carried easily through the night air.  
  
Shrugging, Joyce made her way back towards her home. She did need a shower, and maybe Dawn would sleep better knowing that her mother as home. Tonight… well, killing vampires had vented her feelings about as well as screaming and breaking things. Almost satisfying at the time, leaving her tired, sore, with aching muscles but the pain in her heart untouched. She had to come to terms with this.  
  
End Working Through the Pain 


	13. That Was Me

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Dawn, Buffy  
  
number thirteen in the 'Messed Up Family' universe  
  
Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Mom?" Buffy's voice carried easily, not too loud, but full of worry. "Mom, are you here?"  
  
"Yes, Buffy. In the living room." Joyce called, not quite wanting to move. She'd returned home, showering to get all the blood off of her. Honestly, she'd also hoped that it would help clear her mind, help deal with all the emotions that had been brought up by that news clip, but... well, she was clean. Now, she was curled up on the couch in her flannel pajamas, a cup of cocoa getting cold in her hand.  
  
"I'm glad that you're okay, mom. Something was out there tonight... At first, I just thought things were being pretty slow, and then... there were a couple demons in some of the cemeteries. Demon remains, more like. Something just... They were just ripped apart. Practically shredded in one case... I couldn't even figure out what one of them had been." Buffy sat down, all nervous and tense. "Do you think..."  
  
"You didn't get hurt on patrol?" Joyce looked over, noting the way Buffy was sitting, so stiff and tense. Was that nervousness or bruises?  
  
"No, no... I'm fine. But there was something out there... I don't want you to get hurt. I've been doing this since... well, a couple months before I burned down the gym, and you... haven't." Buffy paused, as if trying to calm herself. "I'd feel better if you didn't go out patrolling until we've figured out what's out there shredding demons."  
  
Joyce made a noise, half way between a snort and a chuckle. "Buffy dear... You don't need to be so worried about me."  
  
"Yes I do. You're the only mom that I've got." Buffy looked at her, fidgeting her fingers a little.  
  
For the first time since that clip, Joyce felt a flicker of warm happiness. Maybe things with her daughter weren't so bad, maybe they were much better than she'd thought. "Oh, Buffy... sweetie. You don't have to worry about some new danger, and you don't have to worry about me being in danger. I went out tonight after... well, did Dawn tell you about this project she has to do?"  
  
"Something about a mutant paper? And there was supposed to be a disk full of news clips. I've heard a few things about that teacher... well, I shouldn't repeat them. What does that have to do with anything?" Buffy looked at her, brows drawn closer in puzzlement.  
  
"A disk full of news clips, yes. Including a good number from out of state. Including New York." Joyce felt her throat going tight, and her eyes had that itchy feeling of impending tears. "My father... he was in one of the clips. Alive. Alive as of a few months ago. And I'd been told... we were told... they said he was dead. He always told us that only death would keep him from coming home, and he didn't come home, didn't come home for so many years..."  
  
"Your dad... Grandpa Creed isn't dead?" Buffy blinked, the words coming slowly. "But... you said... the military... oh. No wonder that... You sound pretty upset about it. Wait, didn't that one family councilor say that it was bad to bottle everything up inside?"  
  
Joyce chuckled, looking at Buffy. "I didn't bottle things up. That's why I went out patrolling. There's no new super menace, just your mom trying to deal with uncovering the biggest lie..."  
  
"No new... that was you?" Buffy sounded as if she was utterly shocked, and balanced between horror and relief. "You can... oh my God. whoa."  
  
With a small sigh, Joyce began listing the ones that she assumed were disturbing Buffy the most. "That was me. Something green with scales and four arms in Eternal Hope, that pair of inept vampires and the gray thing at Our Lady, and... Well, I have no idea what the purple thing was. It almost looked like Barney, with sharp teeth, and it just wouldn't stop moving until it was almost paste. And there was that vampire in... what's the cemetery with that big statue in the middle? The one laid out like a geometry excersice?"  
  
"Pack of vampires wiped out near the old folks home?" Buffy's voice sounded a bit weak, as if she was trying not to collapse. Maybe stunned was a better word for it?  
  
"They were talking about the people there being easy prey. Just tell them that it's their dear little boy come to visit and they'd just invite you right in..." Joyce shrugged. "They couldn't fight worth beans. That cat you had in junior high put up more of a fight than those idiots."  
  
"Suddenly, the whole idea of pushing for the limits of Mom's boundaries sounds so much less appealing..." Buffy murmured. "Good that it's not some new big evil. Umm... I think I'll just go to bed now..."  
  
"Buffy? You should take a shower first. It's hard to get the bloodstains out if they set into sheets." She looked at her daughter as she started towards the bathroom.  
  
Absently, Buffy nodded, moving slowly, as if she were half asleep. "yeah mom."  
  
Joyce just sighed, shaking her head as she looked back at her cocoa. All that sharing, and she didn't really feel better about the discovery. She had to deal with this. Her father wasn't as dead as she'd believed. He was working with someone called Magneto… Maybe she should do a bit of research.  
  
  
  
end That Was Me. 


	14. Sabertooth Interlude: I Have Relatives

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg/pg13  
  
main characters: Sabertooth, Scott Sumers & Jean Grey  
  
number fourteen in the 'Messed Up Family' universe  
  
Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.  
  
  
  
Sabertooth watched as the pair of X-Men walked through the trees. They seemed so relaxed, feeling safe here, with their fancy mansion just a little ways to the south. If not for all the trees, it would be visible.  
  
His hand tightened on the tree branch, claws biting into the wood, releasing the scent of tree sap into the air. Because of these people, Magneto had been taken away, locked into a prison. He wouldn't be able to get him out of there either - too many guards and too many guns. It made him angry, and he wanted to do something about it.  
  
But what could he do? Couldn't break Magneto out, couldn't take out the whole X-Men team... Which was why he was here, waiting, watching. Maybe there would be something that he could do.  
  
"Did you have any luck?" The red haired woman was looking at the visored man, her whole body language proclaiming her affection for him. What was her name, Jane or Jeannie or something? "Have you found anything to say if she is related?"  
  
Crouched in the tree, Sabertooth looked up. This... this might be something that he could use.  
  
"Well, I did, actually. Some things that were useful, others that were not. Buffy is the older child of Hank Summers and Joyce Creed Summers, with a younger sister named Dawn." He reached over, catching her hand in his as he smiled at her. "Hank Summers was the younger brother of Christopher Summers, who was my dad. So, that makes her my cousin. Both of them my cousins. Of course, there's a few things linking Hank to the Friends of Humanity, which wasn't so good, but..."  
  
In the tree, Sabertooth blinked, feeling remarkably stunned. Joyce Creed Summers... Joyce Creed. Images flickered in his mind, glimpses of a girl with blond hair, smiling up at him. His own voice calling her pumpkin. He had known a Joyce Creed before...  
  
So many of his memories were fuzzy. The earliest that he could remember clearly, there had been a group of scientists, and they'd been... doing things to him. Hurting him. Everything before that was fuzzy, vague flickering wisps that were most likely to show up as dreams before melting away. Had he... had he had a family before?  
  
Slowly, he pulled out a thin metal chain from a pouch at his belt. Dangling from it was a single tag, bearing letters and numbers, and several nicks and scratches. The number was meaningless to him, but the letters were clear. They spelled out a name. Creed, Victor L. His name.  
  
Carefully, he moved through the trees, following the X-Men. Maybe they would have more information, useful information about the woman that he was certain was his daughter. How had he forgotten a family?  
  
"... so if Hank and Joyce got a divorce, where do the girls live now?" He'd missed part of the redhead's question.   
  
"Buffy and her sister live with their mom, in a little town called Sunnydale. It's a couple hours north of Los Angeles. Supposed to be pretty quiet, from the official information." The man sounded as if he had plans forming in his mind.  
  
Leaning against him, the woman chuckled. "You're trying to figure out how to go see them, aren't you Scott?"  
  
"Jean, they're my family. I haven't... Since the plane crash, I don't have a family. It might be nice to find some relatives."  
  
Sabertooth smiled as he let them walk away. Sunnydale, California... He had relatives in Sunnydale. The fact that his daughter had apparently married someone related to one of those X-Men was something that he could ignore, after all, she probably hadn't known, and they were divorced anyhow. How old was his daughter?  
  
He would definitely be heading west. All he had to figure out now was the best way to get there. And maybe what to say to his daughter when he found her. Somehow, he had the feeling that she might not be happy with him.  
  
end I Have Relatives. 


	15. Who Is That Man?

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Giles  
  
number fifteen in the 'Messed Up Family' universe  
  
Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, TNL/QPC, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 Buffy. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.  
  
  
  
Joyce had tried cursing, and she'd tried killing things. Both had failed to make her feel better about the discovery that her father was alive. Alive and apparently the minion of some guy... Maybe if she could learn more about that situation, who the old man was and what had been going on?  
  
Buffy had said that they did a lot of research at the library, trying to identify dangerous things and figure out how to prevent assorted bad guys from doing... whatever that particular bad guy was up to. Perhaps the library, and Mr. Giles, would be of use in helping her learn about that old man? In learning what her father had been up to?  
  
She made her way to the library, armed with an empty notebook and that CD-ROM that Dawn's teacher had put together. At the very least, Giles should be able to direct her to the right sorts of references. At best... well, it wouldn't do to get too many hopes up. She library was quiet, and she could smell tea and lemon from the little office in the back, where Mr. Giles was muttering about someone's horrible handwriting.  
  
Put the disk down near the computer, Joyce started looking for the shelves that would hold the back issues of magazines. If there was something with that man, or something about the Mutant Issue... Actually, if she could find some of the debate about the Mutant Registration Act, something that newsworthy was sure to have been brought up and dragged into the discussion. If she could find something on that, then there could be all kinds of useful information.  
  
She could hear Giles emerge from his office, still muttering about terrible writing, and debating what the precise meaning of a word might be. Then, the sound of his footsteps halted. He must have caught sight of the notebook.  
  
"Who else is in here?" There was curiosity in his voice, but no alarm.  
  
Stepping out form the stacks, she smiled at him. "That would be me. I was hoping to gather some information on... someone. Considering the things that Buffy's said about you, this seemed like the place to start."  
  
"Ah, research." He smiled, looking a good deal more relaxed. "Who are you trying to learn more about?"  
  
"A man that was in one of the news-clips that Dawn's teacher sent home with her. Her class was supposed to write a paper about the Mutant issue, and these clips were supposed to help them prepare." She offered that explanation as she started the computer and placed the disk into the machine. "The good news is that it shouldn't require any terribly hand written texts to try to decipher."  
  
"Why are you trying to learn more about this man?" There was curiosity in his voice, and one hand was making a few motions, as if he was already trying to determine the best sources for information.  
  
Joyce clicked the mouse, skipping past the other clips. The one that she was looking for was the twenty ninth track on the disk. Letting it play, she pointed at the old man and her father. "I want information on these two, there will probably be more on the old man."  
  
There was a startled noise as the tea that Giles had just sipped was sprayed out. "b-b-b... The old man... That's Magneto. He disrupted the United Nations meeting at the Statue of liberty with... some sort of device that produced a silvery light. I believe that he's in a federal prison now. I can find plenty of information on him in the recent magazines and newspapers. There is very little about the larger man. Mostly, it's restatements of the same few things. He's called Sabertooth, and he seems to be something of a bodyguard for Magneto. A mutant of unknown origin and identity, and he seems to have vanished again."  
  
"I know where he came from." Joyce looked at the screen, and there was a hint of growl in her next words. "I just don't know how he ended up there."  
  
"Ahh, yes, well…" He shifted, awkwardly trying to clean up the splatters of tea. "There is a good deal more information on Magneto. I'll help you find it, but the short version is that he's a mutant with extreme views, and he holds no faith in the American government's policy about mutants. After the Statue of Liberty incident, he was put on trial, convicted of terrorist actions, and imprisoned… somewhere. They believed that he was trying to kill the delegates."  
  
Joyce paused, considering the way that had been phrased. "You said 'they believed', not 'he was'. Is there a reason why you aren't so certain?"  
  
"err…. It's not something that I would want to testify about." He sipped at his tea, swallowing this time. "Considering the way that he was easily capable of disarming the police and manipulating that bullet, I can't imagine that he would require some strange device that produced a silver light if it were truly his desire to kill them. He should have been easily capable of something quicker and simpler. But I haven't any idea what he would have been intending."  
  
"Logical." Joyce nodded, considering all the things that Buffy had mentioned. "And there are so many things that the light could have been intended to do."  
  
"Yes, well… I don't know what, if anything, may have been uncovered in the inevitable analysis of his device." He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Why are you trying to research Magneto? I think there is quite enough for us to deal with here without dealing with convicted felons."  
  
"It's personal." Joyce bit the words out, trying to remain calm, and doubting that she was doing very well.  
  
"Personal… Well, I suppose that's reasonable enough." He put down the cup. "Let me just go fetch some of the periodicals, I believe he was in Time and People. Maybe those will help you find… whatever you're looking for."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Giles. I do appreciate you helping me find this information." Joyce offered, not wanting to frighten him too much by glaring and growling at the screen.  
  
His voice carried easily. "Don't fret at all. Not only is it most unusual to actually have someone here to learn something, but you're asking for things that I know where to find, and the world isn't depending on having the answers by, say, midnight."  
  
"Do you run into many deadlines like that?" She couldn't quite resist the question. This man was the one guiding her daughter through this whole Slayer thing.  
  
"I haven't had too many personally. More along the lines of figure out the ritual that would require some particular artifact, and when and where it has to happen before it can take place." There was a pause, and she could hear him flipping through magazines. "The fact that there doesn't appear to be a deadline or a grave threat for this is quite a welcome change, actually. It's rather nice."  
  
"Not the way that I'd thought of it, but if you're used to researching disasters…" She shrugged, staring an internet search on the name 'Magneto' She would soon have more information on this man. Maybe she'd even be able to figure out how and why her father had come to be working with him.  
  
End Who Is That Man? 


	16. Life Before Children

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Buffy  
  
this is the sixteenth story in 'Messed Up Family'  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any recognizable characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men (comics or movie).  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, Cat, anyone with permission for the earlier parts. If you want it, please ask first.  
  
notes: This is a blended world from BtVS/X-Men. Joyce is the daughter of Vic Creed (Sabertooth), and the sister of Graydon Creed. Dawn exists as the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank - who is the brother of Christopher Summers and Hank is therefore the uncle of Scott Summers (Cyclops of the X-Men). We are in season 1, in a world not quite the same as the series.  
  
Joyce sighed as she put down the magazine. She'd ended up borrowing a stack of back issues from the High School library about the Mutant Question, featuring Magneto. She'd been hoping to learn something about why her father was working with him, and what sort of man this Magneto character was. There had been quite a lot, unfortunately most of it was either speculation or the same few things over and over.  
  
Magneto was Erik Lenscherr, a man who'd survived one of the Nazi concentration camps. He was a mutant who had vowed to never permit what had happened to the Jews to happen to mutants. And it looked like he had the power to make certain that his voice, his opinions couldn't be ignored.  
  
It also meant that he was much to dangerous to simply go up and demand answers, even if it would be much easier to find him now that he was imprisoned. She wondered just how long a plastic prison would hold someone who could control magnetic forces anyhow. Surely not forever.  
  
The door opened with a loud thump, shutting a few moments later with a slightly softer one. Buffy had just gotten home.  
  
"Hey Mom." Buffy made her way into the living room, holding a stack of books. "Whoa, what's with the stack of magazines?"  
  
"Research on Magneto." She ran her hand through her hair, huffing in frustration. "I can't go to him and demand answers. It wouldn't work, not from a practical standpoint, and he might not have the ones I want anyhow."  
  
"That makes me feel better, actually." Buffy sat down, dropping her books to the floor. "I really don't like the idea of you going up against him. He might be an old guy, but he can float a car up and drop it on you."  
  
"Mmm-hmmm." She looked at her daughter, smiling just a bit at the way that Buffy was trying to worry about her. "I do have limits, and I follow them, dear. I'm not going to deliberately go up against someone who could take me down before I knew that he was even there."  
  
"But, well, you're my mom. Art galleries and bake sales, cups of hot cocoa in front of old romance movies. You aren't... I have trouble picturing you out there taking down the demons." Buffy tried to smile.  
  
"Goodness, how limiting." Joyce smiled at her daughter. "There's more to me than that."  
  
"What, are you going to tell me that you wanted to go to Woodstock when you were younger? That you tried to play with the whole world of sex, drugs and rock and roll? You're my mom. That's just… I can't see you like that." Buffy was smiling.  
  
"I know there's a lot of people saying that the educational system's in trouble, but surely you have to know that I must have had sex at least twice to become the mother of two daughters?" She was trying not to smirk too much. "I don't sing very well, and never learned to play the guitar, hallucinogens make me nauseous, and the others didn't have enough kick to work. And Woodstock was amazing."  
  
"Dad never mentioned that the two of you went to Woodstock." Buffy's voice was softer, full of surprise. As if it had never occurred to her that her parents could have done anything interesting.  
  
"I hadn't met your father yet when I went to Woodstock. I didn't meet him until I went to college." Joyce laughed.  
  
"So, you went to Woodstock when you were Dawn's age?" Buffy looked over, puzzlement in her eyes. "Why would… I mean, isn't that a bit young?"  
  
"Buffy, dear…" Joyce tried to figure out how to explain this. "Honey, sometimes people lie about their age."  
  
"But mom, there's only so much older a person can convince people they are when they're that age." Buffy had this stubborn expression on her face, one that she'd learned from Hank.  
  
Joyce leaned back on the couch, chuckling. "Honey, I didn't lie about my age at Woodstock. I lied about my age when I met your father."  
  
"What? You lied about your age? You weren't nineteen and just starting an art major?" Buffy just gaped at her.  
  
"Well, I was just starting an art major." Joyce smiled, thinking back to how much simpler life had been. "But I wasn't nineteen. I was actually… hmm… let's just say that I'm older than your father and leave it at that, shall we?"  
  
"This is just… weird. You had this whole other life before you met Dad." Buffy shook her head.  
  
Outside, there was a squeaking as a bus stopped, releasing Dawn from the captivity of school. The door opened and closed again, with far less force than Buffy had used. Dawn slouched into the room, looking upset about something. She made an idle wave at them, and Joyce frowned at the flicker of color. "Mom. Buffy."  
  
"Dawn Marie Summers, why are your fingernails dark blue?" Joyce demanded.  
  
"Err…. Would you believe nail polish?" Dawn's eyes had gotten very wide, and the offending fingernails were now stuffed deep into her pockets.  
  
Closing her eyes, Joyce took a deep breath, remembering that she did not need to scream at her children. There wasn't even the faintest trace of the smell of fingernail polish clinging to her daughter. "Honey, what happened?"  
  
Dawn shrugged, not quite meeting her mother's eyes. "They're just… Nothing happened. I hate school. Umm… I'd better go work on that paper."  
  
Joyce watched as her daughter slipped out of the room, positively reeking of anxiety and nervousness. Something had obviously happened, even if she didn't want to talk about it right now. "I'll have to talk to her later… So, Buffy. Is anything interesting happening at high school?"  
  
"There's this boy, Owen. He sort of… he asked me out." Buffy was smiling, her eyes taking on a soft, dreamy look as she considered this boy. "He's cute, and reads poetry, and he's just… sweet."  
  
"Well, I hope things go nicely. And if he tries anything that he shouldn't, I'll have to hurt him." Joyce frowned, thinking about teenage boys. "Assuming that you don't first… or maybe even if you do."  
  
Buffy put her hand over her face, falling back against the chair. "Mom!"  
  
Joyce just shook her head, wondering if she'd caused as much frustration to her parents when she was young.  
  
End Messed Up Family 16: Life Before Children. 


	17. My Mother's Face

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg/pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Dawn  
  
this is the seventeenth story in 'Messed Up Family'  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any recognizable characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men (comics or movie).  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, Cat, anyone with permission for the earlier parts. If you want it, please ask first.  
  
notes: This is a blended world from BtVS/X-Men. Joyce is the daughter of Vic Creed (Sabertooth), and the sister of Graydon Creed. Dawn exists as the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank - who is the brother of Christopher Summers and Hank is therefore the uncle of Scott Summers (Cyclops of the X-Men). We are in season 1, in a world not quite the same as the series.  
  
Joyce left Buffy to glare at her history book, muttering something about 'why should we know about the French Revolution anyhow? This is America.' Buffy would probably be there for a while.  
  
Tapping on the door to Dawn's room, Joyce called out. "Honey? I think we need to talk."  
  
The door opened, and Dawn stood there, her fingernails still dark blue, and smelling like she was about to cry. "Mom... Might as well talk. We had to bring in the rough drafts of our mutant essays today."  
  
"Honey..." Joyce reached out, pulling her daughter into a hug. "Do you want to tell me how it went?"  
  
"She hated it. I think it's because I'm not trying to say that they're.. that mutants are evil or all scary or should be locked away or something. It's.... there were essays that were a lot worse than mine, and she was just ripping mine apart." Dawn sniffled, wrapping her arms around Joyce and clinging.  
  
Rubbing her hand over her daughter's back, Joyce tried to figure out a way to calm Dawn down. She knew that her father's trick - offering to gut whoever was responsible for making his baby girl cry - would NOT be appropriate. "I'll help you look over the essay. And I'll make certain that this teacher doesn't make things too miserable for you."  
  
"But what if she still hates it and she fails me? What if she tries to get me held back? I can't flunk seventh grade, I'll be the laughing-stock of the whole town!" Dawn whimpered, still clinging to her mother.  
  
"If she even considers trying something like that, I'll take it to the school board and get her fired. That's illegal, honey, and she can't get away with it. But just so she can't try to defend herself, I'll help make sure the essay's got all the bugs worked out."  
  
"It had me pretty upset. And when I went to get a drink of water after that, my fingernails... they were just blue." Dawn sighed, loosening her grip enough to glance at her fingers. "Very blue."  
  
That did seem odd, although it explained why Dawn didn't smell like nail polish. Actually... she sniffed again. Something about the way Dawn smelled reminded her of someone, and she could almost place it. "It's not a bad color, but I think you're still a bit young to have nails that dark."  
  
"Oh, mom, it's not the seventies anymore. It's okay to wear a bit of makeup." Dawn shook her head, hair swinging a bit to obscure her face.  
  
Suddenly, it clicked for Joyce. She realized who Dawn's scent was reminding her of, and who Dawn took after. Her mother, the vanished Julia Anne Chambers-Creed. "You look a bit like my mother."  
  
"Huh?" Dawn blinked, pulling her hair back from her eyes, the other hand trying to find something to do with it to keep it there. "I look like Grandma Creed? Isn't she dead or something? Dead, divorced, left the country..."  
  
Joyce sighed, figuring that Dawn might as well know the truth. Especially considering the degree of strangeness the family already had. "When I was fourteen, my mother left. She just... when we woke up, she was gone, along with some of her things and one of the cars. I couldn't ever find her, or anything about her. It was as if she'd just... vanished, or as if she'd never existed at all, except that there we were."  
  
"Why? Why would she just leave like that?" Dawn whispered.  
  
"I don't know." Joyce sighed, hugging her daughter once more. "I've wondered that for years, and the only thing that I could come up with... we weren't what she wanted. I'd always known that I wasn't quite good enough to make her happy, never quite getting it right, and never quite certain what I'd done wrong. I used to imagine what could have happened, but... Over the years, I decided not to waste my time trying to figure out what her problems with life were when I have my own."  
  
Dawn giggled weakly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Like Buffy's fighting, Dad being a jerk, and how to pay the bills? Or is there something that I missed?"  
  
"Nothing that we need to talk about right now, Dawnie." Joyce smiled, wondering just how her daughter had learned so much. "Have you been spying on people again?"  
  
"umm…" Dawn fidgeted, looking at her nails again. "Is there a right answer to that one?"  
  
"Dawn…" She tried to look stern, unsure if she was succeeding or not. "Why do you keep doing that?"  
  
"I'm thinking that when I grow up, I either want to be an investigative reporter, or a special agent." Dawn grinned, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.  
  
"Oh dear." Joyce sighed, shaking her head. "There's a bit of a gap between those, honey."  
  
"Which one would you prefer?" Dawn asked, fussing with a maybe hangnail.  
  
"Since people might be shooting at you in either occupation, I'd go with special agent. That way, you can at least shoot back, and there should be back up."  
  
"Mom!" Dawn's attempt at outrage might have done better if not for the giggles. "Nobody else at school would tell their daughter to pick a career based on 'can she shoot back if the bad guys are after her?' You're the best."  
  
"I try, honey. And I'm here for you." Joyce smiled, feeling better already. "Now, let's look at this essay of yours…"  
  
end My Mother's Face. 


	18. No Advice to Give

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Angel  
  
this is the eighteenth story in 'Messed Up Family'  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any recognizable characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men (comics or movie).  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, Cat, anyone with permission for the earlier parts. If you want it, please ask first.  
  
notes: This is a blended world from BtVS/X-Men. Joyce is the daughter of Vic Creed (Sabertooth), and the sister of Graydon Creed. Dawn exists as the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank - who is the brother of Christopher Summers and Hank is therefore the uncle of Scott Summers (Cyclops of the X-Men). We are in season 1, in a world not quite the same as the series.  
  
Joyce sighed as she walked down the street. Dawn was asleep, still worrying about her blue fingernails and her dreadful teacher. Buffy was out on patrol, covering the cemeteries. Technically, she didn't have to go on a patrol, but she'd felt the need to try to sort her thoughts a bit. And she always felt like she thought better while moving.  
  
Gradually, as she headed into the dying industrial and warehouse section, she became aware of footsteps following her, very soft ones. "Hello Angel."  
  
"Joyce. You look.... calmer than the last time I found you on patrol." Angel's voice was mostly calm, with an undercurrent of worry. Probably a normal human wouldn't have caught that thread of worry, but neither of them were precisely normal.  
  
Turning, she looked at him, seeing the way that the moonlight framed him. "I suppose so, or at least, a lot less angry. It didn't quite help anyhow. This time, I have other things on my mind."  
  
"Anything that I could help with?" Angel moved to walk beside her, hands in his jacket pockets.  
  
Joyce gave him a half smile, glancing over him in evaluation. "Ever have kids, Angel?"  
  
"As in, when I was mortal, or as in have I ever turned someone and taught them how to be a vampire?" Angel sounded surprised by the question.  
  
"Either one."  
  
"Well..." Angel tried to delay, his gaze dropping to the sidewalk instead of on Joyce. "I wasn't married, so I never had the experience of mortal parenting. I did have some vampire children, and they... Well, I taught them how to be vampires."  
  
"So, that means you probably don't have much experience with difficult teachers." Joyce sighed, not terribly surprised.  
  
Angel chuckled slightly. "I killed a few, back when I was evil. But I somehow don't think that's the sort of dealing with that you're looking for."  
  
"No, not really." With a small smile, Joyce continued. "I can figure out ways to kill things all by myself."  
  
Angel just laughed, in spite of the fact that it was a rather dark joke. "I'm sure that you can."  
  
"So, more having to muddle through on my own." Joyce kicked at a bottle, listening to it shatter against a building.  
  
"If you're having troubles..." Angel glanced over, his eyes intense as he looked at her. "I may not have useful advice, but I can listen."  
  
"Well, that's something. Better than nothing, anyhow." Joyce paused, certain that she'd heard something shuffling ahead of them. "Did you hear that?"  
  
Angel nodded, his body tensing. In an entirely unconvincing voice, he offered. "Could be a stray dog."  
  
Joyce just arched an eyebrow, by now well aware that while it could be, the odds were that since this was Sunnydale, the thing most likely wasn't a dog. "Maybe. But I doubt it."  
  
Something snarled ahead, and then they were charged by a creature that moved like a dog, was the size of a small pony, and covered with dark scales. It also stank, like sulfur, badly cured leather, and rotting garbage.  
  
"You're right, it's not a dog." Angel grunted, twisting out of it's way and producing a sharp knife from inside his coat. "It's a hellhound."  
  
"And how do we kill it?" Joyce demanded, kicking out at the beast as she evaded it's charge.  
  
"Just... basic violence. Hit it, don't let it bite you." Angel's eyes tracked the beast, and he had the knife ready to attack.  
  
The hellhound was actually quite easy for the two of them to dispatch. Joyce studied the body, noticing the sharp teeth and the worn pads. "How do these things get here anyhow?"  
  
"Someone has to conjure them." Angel gave a small shrug. "Of course, it doesn't look like it had a very attentive master, they aren't supposed to be that bony."  
  
"Huh." Joyce shook her head. "Well, either someone already killed the master, or we'll deal with them later. Thanks for listening Angel, but I've got to go back and figure out what to do about a miserable middle school teacher."  
  
"Good luck, Joyce." Angel's voice followed her as she made her way back to the house.  
  
End MUF 18: No Advice to Give. 


	19. A More Civilized Plan

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Tina (original character)  
  
this is the ninteenth story in 'Messed Up Family'  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any recognizable characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men (comics or movie).  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, Cat, anyone with permission for the earlier parts. If you want it, please ask first.  
  
notes: This is a blended world from BtVS/X-Men. Joyce is the daughter of Vic Creed (Sabertooth), and the sister of Graydon Creed. Dawn exists as the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank - who is the brother of Christopher Summers and Hank is therefore the uncle of Scott Summers (Cyclops of the X-Men). We are in season 1, in a world not quite the same as the series.  
  
Joyce knew that she would have to be prepared to deal with that idiot, Mrs. Goreman. The woman couldn't possibly be stupid enough to take that sort of hostile approach towards a delicate issue unless she was certain that she had at least unspoken support. Which meant that all the bases would need to be covered before she made her move. She found copies of the current school board regulations, and started a careful examination of the sections about discrimination on basis of ancestry, political views, or creed - meaning religion, not the family.  
  
After all, if she could point out where the rules said that Dawn couldn't get in trouble for thinking differently, it would sound a lot better than just saying 'that's not fair'. Life wasn't fair, school wasn't fair. If she could further find something in the Middle School student handbook, that would be even better.  
  
Thank God that she didn't have a lot of things to do at the Gallery today.  
  
Even without the distraction of many phone calls or lots of art paperwork, she still had to stop several times to go back an have a little workout, lifting weights, practicing a few sword patterns or just hitting a punching bag in an effort to reign in her temper.  
  
Finally, she had things marked on the pages, and started outlining her defense of Dawn and Dawn's essay. With luck, it wouldn't be needed, but she really didn't have faith in that. So, it would be far better to have her defense ready immediately when it was needed, rather than having to scramble to get it together. And it gave her something to think about besides her father, even though it was this paper that Dawn had been assigned that had brought up all of that confusing and painful mess.  
  
In further preparation, she'd gotten a list of the school board members, and tracked down addresses for several of them. She was planning to pay a few visits, and to sound out their personal feelings on the matter. First on her list was a Ms. Tina Kinston...  
  
Tina turned out to be a slightly plump woman who dressed as if she was a semi retired thirties starlet, with immaculate hair and careful make up. Her peach toned nails tapered elegantly, and showed off the glittering rubies of her rings. She even had that breezy languidness and tendency to call people 'darling'.  
  
"So, what does bring you here, darling?" She reclined along her couch, sipping delicately at her iced tea. "I don't usually get too many visitors."  
  
Joyce smiled, sipping at her own tea, which she had politely accepted. There was a hint of orange in the flavor. "Actually, it's because you're on the school board. One of my younger daughter's teachers assigned a paper, and... Well, to put it politely, I'm afraid that my daughter's chosen view on a political issue will be unfavorably received."  
  
"Darling, you don't look old enough to have a daughter writing opinion papers yet." Tina smiled, her hand gesturing in a polite little wave. "But that doesn't sound... I'm quite certain that there are a few things... Freedom of Expression. Isn't that one of the basic American rights?"  
  
"Yes. Although this might fall a bit under freedom of the press." Joyce smiled, hoping that things wouldn't go badly if Tina learned just what her daughter's unfavorable position would be. "I have the suspicion that when Dawn turns her paper in, the teacher will... I'm not sure, but I think it will be ugly."  
  
"What makes you think this, darling?" Tina was looking right at her now, her dark eyes keenly focused.   
  
"This is a copy of the handout that Dawn's class was given. They were also each given a CD ROM with some news clips about mutants. I watched it, and they were... there was an obvious bias to the selection." Joyce passes the stapled essay guidelines to Tina, feeling her stomach flutter in uncertainty.  
  
"The Mutant Problem? That sounds a bit hostile..." Tina skimmed over the guidelines. "The length sounds reasonable, and the format suggestions. May I see these clips?"  
  
"I brought the disk. Do you have a computer handy?" Joyce wasn't quite certain what to expect, but the next few minutes would be critical.  
  
Tina placed the half empty glass of tea on the spotless glass coffee table and rose from the couch. "I have a laptop, of course. I'll be right back with it."  
  
It really wasn't much longer before Tina was skimming over the disk, making these disapproving little 'tskk'ing sounds. Her skill with the computer made Joyce a little envious, actually. "Are they all? Is there a single clip that presents things in a neutral or positive light?"  
  
"One if them, around number twenty or so, is a bit from the Mutant Hearings in the Senate. A Dr. Jean Grey explaining how mutation is difficult to predict, and trying to answer some questions from Senator Kelly." Joyce leaned back, sipping her tea and trying to at least look relaxed.  
  
"Hmmm...." Tina kept scanning the clips. "This isn't good at all. It isn't so much a question of what the teacher's views are as the fact that she's apparently trying to force her anti-mutant views on the entire class as well. The question becomes what to do about her." One peach nail was tapping against a rose tinted lip.  
  
"Which is why I came to you." Joyce commented, picking the glass of tea up again, sipping at it. "My daughter's essay might not be spectacular, but I don't want her to get into any special trouble just because her opinion isn't the same as Goreman's."  
  
"Quite natural, darling. Don't worry about it so much. I can handle this. If the teacher tries anything, object, and then call me. My second husband put me in contact with a good number of lawyers, and my third husband taught me a great deal about playing hardball." Tina smiled, her eyes far less harmless looking than the rest of her.  
  
Relaxing, Joyce smiled much more cheerfully. "That's good to know. I'm afraid that my own background... it doesn't quite have the right sort of tactics to use against a teacher."  
  
"Ah, but darling... One small thing." Tina smiled, her finger slowly circling the rim of her glass. "Can you by chance give me the name of the artist responsible for those splendid watercolors that you had in your gallery about a month ago? They were lovely, and I thought that I had a card, but it seems to have utterly vanished."  
  
Delighted that it was something so simple, Joyce chuckled. "Of course. I'll have to look the name up in my records at the gallery, but I can call you later with the name and a contact number. If you'd be interested in buying some, I think that there were a few that would look lovely in your house, judging from this room."  
  
"Thank you, darling." Tina smiled, and there was a subtle sign that if everything was finished, perhaps it was time to move to the polite farewells? Just the slight changes in her posture - Tina might not have even realized that she was sending that signal.  
  
"You're most welcome." Joyce stood up, setting down the now empty cup. "It was a pleasure meeting you, and you have such a lovely home... the orange blossoms must smell lovely in the spring."  
  
Tina smiled, and walked with Joyce to the door. "It's been a lovely visit. Do let me know if there's any sort of problem with the schools, that's what I'm supposed to be doing, after all."  
  
"Of course. With a bit of luck, all out future business will concern matters of art, but... it's so nice to have a helpful school board, not at all like those miserable people I had to deal with back in Los Angeles..."  
  
Joyce felt much better as she made her way back to her car. The problem would probably still come up, and that woman would probably still make a huge fuss, but she had an ally. She had a plan other than kill the teacher, hide the body. Life was looking up.  
  
end MuF19: A More Civilized Plan. 


	20. Plans for the Day

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Dawn  
  
this is the twentieth story in 'Messed Up Family'  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any recognizable characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men (comics or movie).  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, Cat, anyone with permission for the earlier parts. If you want it, please ask first.  
  
notes: This is a blended world from BtVS/X-Men. Joyce is the daughter of Vic Creed (Sabertooth), and the sister of Graydon Creed. Dawn exists as the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank - who is the brother of Christopher Summers and Hank is therefore the uncle of Scott Summers (Cyclops of the X-Men). We are in season 1, in a world not quite the same as the series.  
  
Note 2 – to Troy, who mentioned out a weak point in the first version. It's good for the story to have weak points identified, and it was done politely – thank you.  
  
"Mom? Would you... I mean, can you come in to school today? We're supposed to be presenting our reports." Dawn's voice was soft, in an ineffective effort to conceal her worry. "I don't… I'd rather have someone else watching the evil teacher."  
  
"Sure, pumpkin. I have to got to the gallery, there's an artist that I need to look up at some point today, but I'm sure I can find a suitable time to do that and still be able to watch your presentation." Joyce smiled at her younger daughter, hoping that things wouldn't get ugly.  
  
Dawn turned, her hand brushing back her hair, the fingernails still that same dark blue. Dawn had apparently decided to go with it, and had on a dark blue shirt that was a close match. "Why do you need to look up an artist?"  
  
"Because I thought that it might be good to have a plan in case that teacher decides to get obnoxious about your essay. I talked to someone on the school board, and she wanted the name of an artist that had a showing about a month ago." Joyce smiled, and then asked. "So, what time is this class?"  
  
"Your plan was to talk to the school board? Mo-om! What if that doesn't work? Isn't there something else that you could do? Hire a lawyer? Write to a congressman? Something?" Dawn's voice was full of dismay. "And it's at one, so I have most of the day of dread first."  
  
"Well honey, my first idea was to just kill the teacher and hide the body, but..." Joyce shrugged, trying to seem casual about the whole thing. It would be best not to have to do that sort of thing, even if it did work very well for demons and vampires, not that vampires left bodies to hide.  
  
Dawn giggled, but she looked faintly worried. "Stop joking, Mom. You can't just kill the teacher."  
  
"Of course, Dawn. There would be too many witnesses." Joyce smiled, deciding to tease just a little. "I did want a plan in case she gets difficult. The school regulations say that you are allowed to have any political and religious view that you like, without fear of repercussion for your beliefs." Seeing Dawn's arched eyebrow, she smiled a bit. "Yes, that was a quote from the school handbook. Although actions are a slightly different matter, they shouldn't be able to stretch that far enough to cover writing an essay in a different direction. I just want to make sure that holds."  
  
"What if it doesn't work? What if Ms. Goreman still hates my essay and tries to flunk me?" Dawn's voice trembled a bit, and there were tears in her eyes.  
  
"I still have killing her as Plan B." Joyce reached out, brushing Dawn's cheek. "I'm not going to let her ruin your life. I promise."  
  
"Thanks, Mom." Dawn smiled, and picked up her backpack. "I guess that I'd better go wait for the bus, then. Wish me luck?"  
  
"I'll be there for you, Dawn, and your paper's very good." Joyce promised, and then called to her older daughter. "Buffy, are you ready? It's almost time for the bus."  
  
"Coming!" Buffy's voice rang out.  
  
Joyce sighed as her girls left the house, on their way to the bus. She could remember being that young, and she wanted her daughters to enjoy their life while they could. After all, they'd grow up soon enough. And she had a plan for the day – get the name for Ms. Kinston, go lurk for Dawn's essay, and come home and either begin her legal fight, or try to sort out the Magneto notes that she'd gathered. Wait, one small clarification. She'd best go lurk for the essay with a little camcorder or something, so that there could be no claims that Dawn's essay was terrible, or presented disruptively. She could pick one up at the mall.  
  
Her day planned, Joyce made her own way out of the house. Once she'd found a little camcorder, and whatever tapes or disks it required to film, she'd pop over to the Gallery and find that information. And then she could go lurk at Dawn's school. Better to lurk early than to arrive late and miss the whole mess. She was unhappily certain that there would be a mess.  
  
On the other side of Sunnydale, a long train slowly pulled into a freight yard. Several cars would be sent on towards the southern cities, while others would go to some of the lingering industry of the town. In all the smoke and noise, the sight of a large figure dressed in patchwork leather slipping out of one of the boxcars went unremarked. Of course, considering the sheer number of demons and vampires that traveled to Sunnydale, this wasn't nearly as unusual an entry to town as it would be elsewhere. And the freight yard workers didn't get paid to look for people leaving. Sometimes, it was far safer not to look, not to notice a large moving shadow.  
  
With a low growl, the figure seemed to sniff for something specific, and shook his mane of reddish blond hair before moving away from the train. He looked to have somewhere in mind, and he looked far too dangerous to bother out of curiosity. Besides, a lot of the big and dangerous looking arrivals were perfectly willing to snack on the workers.   
  
In the Los Angeles, a pretty woman with red hair was talking to a bored ticket clerk about a connecting flight to Sunnydale. Scott was trying to find their luggage, not wanting the clerk to notice and recall his distinctive sunglasses. He'd been trying to find his family for a long time now, and could hardly wait to have a chance to really meet his cousins Buffy and Dawn. Scott and Jean were certain that today would be something to remember.  
  
End Plans for the Day. 


	21. Both Sides of the Essay

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Dawn  
  
this is the twenty-first story in 'Messed Up Family'  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any recognizable characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men (comics or movie).  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, Cat, anyone with permission for the earlier parts. If you want it, please ask first.  
  
notes: This is a blended world from BtVS/X-Men. Joyce is the daughter of Vic Creed (Sabertooth), and the sister of Graydon Creed. Dawn exists as the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank - who is the brother of Christopher Summers and Hank is therefore the uncle of Scott Summers (Cyclops of the X-Men). We are in season 1, in a world not quite the same as the series.  
  
It didn't take much to find the name of the watercolor artist, and hardly more time than that to call and leave the details on the answering machine for Ms. Kinston. A few other little details arranged, and she could leave the gallery in the hands of her part time assistant, a college student working on an art degree. The poor girl looked so tired sometimes that Joyce had mentioned the shower in the basement and the microwave in the back room, and had picked up a mini-refrigerator so that little bits of food could be stored at the gallery safely. She tried to keep some fruit and cheese on hand, as well as a variety of jelly, some peanut butter, and bread. She just wanted to make certain that Shelly knew that she had someone that she could turn to for a little bit, even if only a place to shower and a snack around two in the afternoon.  
  
She wandered through the electronics store at the mall for longer, caught up in her musings of which one would be better, and how likely was she to use them again anyhow? She left the store with almost three hundred dollars more charged to her credit card, and a tiny camcorder ready to record for close to twelve hours. All she had to do now would be to go watch Dawn's teacher, to listen to the presentation.  
  
Naturally, it was far easier to find the school than to find a parking spot. She just shook her head, and started to walk towards the school, trying to remain calm. Loosing her temper about what might happen wouldn't help Dawn. Grumbling about inconsiderate jerks who took up two parking places just so that nothing could bump into their shiny new red convertible... That wouldn't help Dawn. She managed to resist the urge to scratch all along the sides of the paint - it would serve no productive purpose, and it would have been petty. Instead, she slipped into the school, reporting to the office to collect a silly little sticker that proclaimed her as a visiting parent.  
  
They hadn't noticed the camcorder, and she didn't feel like pointing it out. Instead she simply made certain that it was ready to film, and meandered around until she found the correct classroom - Ms Goreman, 7th Grade English. It was barely past noon, so she just leaned against the wall, and tried to remember if her school had looked like this one. The cinderblock hallways and ugly tile floors... yes, though in different unappealing hues. Slightly leaning lockers, one of which was missing a door, and several others of which had corners of paper sticking out - her school had had those as well. One of the lockers smelled like dried Marijuana leaves, and another smelled like stale peanuts, several reeked of used gym socks, and someone had an apple tucked away.  
  
Eventually, it was time for the one o'clock class changes, and a bell rang loudly. Some students practically bolted out of the classrooms, while others were walking determinedly or just milling roughly down the halls, chatting and shuffling, and talking about movies and parties and bands that she didn't recognize. It was all enough to make her feel very old all of a sudden. With a heavy sigh, she tried to just slip into the room with the teens, and meandered to an empty seat at the back of the room. Several other parents slipped in, some looking sheepish, a couple distracted, and one looking entirely bored as she adjusted carefully arranged dark curls that reeked of hair dye. She could see Dawn closer to the front, looking nervous and pale. She tried to offer her daughter a reassuring smile, but it didn't seem to help too much. Carefully, she started the camcorder filming, figuring that it couldn't hurt to get everybody's presentation on film.  
  
Looking slightly flustered, the teacher stood up, walking from her desk at the front to a spot near the windows, her shoes squeaking weakly. "Good afternoon to all the parents who've made time to come in today and watch your presentations. Now, we have a lot of papers to introduce, and you'll need to turn in your papers to me after you've had your turn. Maria, if you would begin?"  
  
With those few words, the students began to stand up and say a few things about their paper, and what they'd chosen to write about. There were whispers, and a few questions every now and then, most of them sounding more from habit than curiosity. A paper about the Mutant Hearings in Washington. One about a mutant-caused shop-fire in San Diego. Two about the Magneto Trial, the first sounding rather disorganized. Three about the number of mutants in jail for destruction of property, assault, and general misbehavior. One about the 'growing rate' of mutant manifestations, and speculation of the mutant population. Gradually, she realized that the students seemed to be getting called up in alphabetical order. Poor Dawn seemed to be an absolute nervous wreck, and she kept fidgeting, her blue nails clicking on the desk.  
  
Finally, the teacher's voice called out "Dawn Summers."  
  
Dawn stood up, her hand clutching her paper as she walked towards the front chalkboard. Joyce could smell the nervous tension radiating out, could smell the sweat that was even now filming over Dawn's palms. As Dawn turned around, Joyce frowned. Dawn's normally hazel eyes seemed a bit paler today, or was it just that they were wider from nerves?  
  
"Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Dawn Summers..." There was a slight pause while someone giggled, and another person pressed play on the Walkman that they had slipped headphones for, and someone unwrapped chocolate. "I wrote a paper that compares the anti-mutant feeling that is so strong in some political groups today with the anti-black activities of the Klu Klux Klan."  
  
The room fell silent, and everybody seemed to snap into focus on Dawn.  
  
"Miss Summers, that is quite the charge you're bringing up." Ms Goreman's tone was clearly disapproving.   
  
"I did a lot of careful research, and I even looked at some of the modern anti-mutant pamphlets and the old KKK pamphlets. There are a lot of similarities. Then, black people were blamed for decreasing jobs and rising amounts of crime and political unrest, and today people blame mutants." Dawn shuffled her feet, and ducked her head, glancing at the tiles on the floor before continuing in a softer voice. "Now, mutants are portrayed as a vast, untrustworthy 'them' that will cause decay and disaster for America, but thirty years ago the pamphlets were... not against mutants."  
  
"Considering the incidents of mutant violence, and the sheer number of acts of property destruction..." Ms. Goreman paused, and scowled at Dawn. "I'm afraid that you'll have to do better than comparing a few fringe pamphlets."  
  
Joyce reminded herself not to grip the camcorder too hard, and that breathing was a good thing. She could feel a dark reddish haze trying to edge into her vision, and tried to take deep, slow breaths. It didn't help, she kept smelling her daughter's fear and the teacher's fear-dismay-anger.  
  
"Dawn, did you find any information about mutant criminal activity when you were looking for your defense?" The question came from a skinny blond boy with freckles and pants that looked about six sizes too big.  
  
Dawn looked at him, her eyes tiny spots of color as she tried to smile. "I found a number of cases where mutant abilities manifested without control, or when attempting to defend themselves, but nothing about any large scale organized mutant activity. Nothing bigger than a seven individual car theft ring that included two mutants and someone addicted to hair dye in Texas. Magneto did come up, but... he only had a few supporters."  
  
"Are you dismissing Magneto as someone who is not a danger?" Ms. Gorman's voice was practically a hiss.  
  
For a moment, Dawn stood there, not quite saying anything. Then, she licked her lips and stated. "Magneto confessed to having three supporters at his trial. That's three accomplices, making four mutants total. In math class, they assured us that four is still counted as a small group, especially in politics. A very dangerous group, but still small in number."  
  
As the teacher just glared at her, Dawn shuffled back a few steps. "I didn't say that some mutants might not be dangerous. I just said that the whole anti-mutant groups were... following an unfair and bad pattern."  
  
"And do you..." The teacher started to say something else, her frown deepening and making her face look more wrinkled.  
  
"The paper sounds like a good topic to me." Commented a man who had looked almost sleepy, dressed in a crisp blue and gray uniform, a shiny sheriff's badge pinned to his chest.  
  
"Where did you get the KKK pamphlets for your research?" Asked a slightly rounded woman with bland brown clothing and a clipboard.  
  
Dawn looked away from her teacher, focusing on the bland woman. "My mom studied social sciences when she went to college, and there were pamphlets that she had from one of her old classes on social diversity."  
  
"And where did you get the anti-mutant pamphlets that you referenced?" There was something almost sharp in the earth-toned woman's question, and she held a pen ready to scrawl over her clipboard some more.  
  
"The disk of news clips had a list of websites on it, with some more articles and a couple anti-mutant sites. They were at one of them, a group called Friends of Humanity."  
  
"So, the information that your teacher gave you had the website for a hate group on it?" There was definitely something sharp and almost predatory in blandly dressed woman's smile. "Were there any listings for mutant defense or mutant support groups?"  
  
Dawn managed to speak clearly, though her gaze did drop to her paper, now held in front of her stomach like a feeble shield. "No ma'am, there weren't."  
  
"I think that's enough questions for Miss Summers." The teacher was scowling even more, trying to regain control of the class. "Hand in your essay and sit down."  
  
Joyce reminded herself again not to growl, and stood up. "I happen to know that my daughter put a lot of work into that paper. She spent hours researching information, and comparing prejudiced pamphlets from different decades, and more hours of typing and revising. I want everyone to know that I'm proud of her and her hard work."  
  
The teacher scowled all the way through a boy named Jim Wakeeda's report on a new type of medical scam – people claiming to be able to test a home for 'mutation inducing factors' and how hundreds of people had already lost thousands of dollars. He seemed to have put a good deal of research into his paper as well, but nobody seemed to have any questions for him.  
  
As the bell rang to dismiss the class, Joyce could see that the teacher was already writing over a paper with bright red ink. She couldn't tell who's paper it was from here, but she could make a few guesses. Again, she reminded herself not to growl, that there were far too many people here to have even a chance to not be seen killing the teacher. That killing someone couldn't always remove a problem.  
  
Joyce tried to make sure to get a shot of the teacher making all of those red marks on that paper as she stood up to leave the room. It might not be much, but since the teacher did seem intent on making trouble, she would do her best to hang her out to legally dry up and blow away.  
  
"Mrs. Summers? I'm Lisa Evans, from the county Prosecutor's office. Ms Kinston said that you'd mentioned a reason to suspect there might be a case of prejudice in the classroom. Considering what I saw in that classroom, I'd have to say that you're right. I was wondering if you'd be willing to submit that film as evidence, should things come to trial?" The woman in the drab clothing was smiling at her, still looking rather pleased and predatory about something.  
  
Joyce's own smile had to have been as dangerous. "Why, I would be delighted to offer it for use as evidence. And a copy of the disks that the students were given. I was just hoping that it wouldn't come to that. It's in the school handbook that all students are permitted to hold any political or religious views they desire, as long as those views do not damage property or harm another individual, and are not disruptive in class."  
  
"Really?" Lisa's smile curved wider, and there was a small twinkle in her eye. " In the school handbook, you say? Mrs. Summers, I believe we should have a bit of a talk…"  
  
End Both Sides of the Essay. 


	22. First Impressions

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Scott, Jean, Buffy, Sabertooth  
  
this is the twenty-second story in 'Messed Up Family'  
  
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any recognizable characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or X-Men (comics or movie).  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, Cat, anyone with permission for the earlier parts. If you want it, please ask first.  
  
notes: This is a blended world from BtVS/X-Men. Joyce is the daughter of Vic Creed (Sabertooth), and the sister of Graydon Creed. Dawn exists as the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank - who is the brother of Christopher Summers and Hank is therefore the uncle of Scott Summers (Cyclops of the X-Men). We are in season 1, in a world not quite the same as the series.  
  
Scott Summers took a deep breath as he stepped off the little plane that had flown them from Los Angeles to Sunnydale. He could smell the ocean, and a hint of fish, and the air seemed relatively clean, but humid. He could feel the heat and humidity pressing on him, almost like it was trying to fold him into crushing wet towels. With a small shudder, he made his way down the steps and into the airport, hoping to reclaim his single suitcase. Beside him, Jean made her way down as well, looking rather queasy. "Jean? Did you... is it from the turbulence? That was a pretty rough flight."  
  
"It's... maybe. I just don't feel that good." She shuddered, and had that slightly glassy eyed look of someone trying very hard not to throw up.  
  
Scott ended up standing beside her, frowning as Jean swayed a bit on her feet. It appeared that she was really motion sick, and looked on the verge of collapsing at any moment. Slowly, they made their way to claim their luggage, each having brought only a single item of luggage. Scott's bag looked a bit more scuffed that he recalled it being before they left, but there wasn't anything particularly fragile inside, so he wasn't worried.  
  
"Let's go from the airport, and we can find a hotel. Then, we figure out how to find Buffy." Scott offered, feeling very worried about Jean. "Do you have something to settle your stomach?"  
  
"Scott, we are talking about one of your relatives. She shouldn't be that hard to find." Jean smiled weakly, and tried to hold very still. "Scott? Can we see if there's a shop with something... antacids, anti-nausea... anything? please?"  
  
It was actually easier to take care of that before talking to the car rental clerk in the airport. After picking up a couple different types of medicine from the little store near a big window that had a view of the runway, Scott and Jean walked towards the car rental, seeing that there were still several people waiting impatiently in line.  
  
"Well, that certainly makes me glad that we got the medicine first." Jean's soft comment made Scott chuckle.  
  
And so, Scott and Jean made a less than glorious arrival in Sunnydale. With Jean feeling nauseous, and Scott fussing over her, they managed to find a hotel room, and Scott started looking through the phone book, hoping that there might be a listing of 'Summers, J' or 'Summers, Joyce'. It wasn't as if there was a rush, they wouldn't be able to talk to Buffy until school let out anyhow.  
  
"Jean, I think I've found the address." Scott smiled, running his hand along the side of his sunglasses, as if worried that they would somehow slip from his face. "Now we just need to find Buffy, and figure out how to explain... this."  
  
"Scott, honey... Why not try to catch her on the way out from school? That might be easier than trying to deal with a possibly panicking mother and little sister." Jean sipped at some cool water. "Of course, we'll have to explain to her mother and sister anyhow, but..."  
  
"But you're thinking that it might be easier if we explain to Buffy that she's got a long lost cousin, and then hope that she can help us figure out how to explain that and the mutant thing to her mother and sister?" Scott smiled at her, thinking that it did make sense. And Buffy had met them, already knew that they were mutants, so it shouldn't be that difficult to bring up the idea that she had the possibility of being a mutant as well.  
  
Jean smiled a little, and then sighed. "There's also the fact that while it's very easy to find a high school, it's harder to find one specific house in a town that neither of us are familiar with."  
  
"How do you plan to find the high school?" Scott had the suspicion that Jean was about to make some sort of joke, and tried to prepare himself.  
  
"Simple. I just look for a large knot of unhappy teenagers, filled with frustration, anger, depression, and overactive hormones. The feeling of being trapped should lead us right to them, especially since there aren't any large prisons in the area."  
  
Groaning, Scott leaned back in the chair, reluctantly admitting to himself that his school had certainly felt like that. "I guess that will work."  
  
"In that case, why don't we get started? I'm looking forward to getting to know your cousin." Jean sipped at the water again, lifting her purse from her carry-on duffel.  
  
Scott nodded as he stood up, one hand clutching the page where he'd carefully written the address. "That sounds like a plan, do you feel up to driving, or should I?"  
  
"Urgg… you do it." Jean shuddered, adjusting the fall of her purse. "I feel better, but not enough to try to do a psi-scan and drive at the same time."  
  
In the end, it only took them about a half hour to find the school. The grounds looked pleasant enough, with a brick and white stucco building and a tiled roof, shaded by several large trees. There was a parking lot with a collection of vehicles ranging from stuffy and expensive, to sleek, low-end sports cars and aging, dented clunkers, most likely owned as a proud sign on independence by teens barely legal to drive.  
  
Jean shuddered in the passenger seat, and started to rub at her temples. "Ohhh… this is terrible. I think the heat from the car is giving me a headache… or maybe it's the last of the motion sickness."  
  
Scott looked over, not liking the sound of Jean's complaint. She looked paler, and there were little spots of tension all over her face and in her neck and shoulders. It was as if her shields to protect her mind from the misery and unhappiness and frustration of so many people just weren't working very well. But that didn't make any sense at all, Jean had learned how to make very solid mental shields; she shouldn't be having this sort of bad reaction to a high school. "Do you think that you'd feel better if we went inside, maybe sat in the shade instead?"  
  
"Maybe." She sounded uncertain, and maybe her stomach was upset again. "I don't think this trip is agreeing with me."  
  
With that, they moved inside, and sat on a stone bench near a water fountain. Jean still looked rather queasy, and Scott was starting to wonder if there might be some other explanation for her misery. The school was air conditioned, so it couldn't be the heat anymore. The medicine that she'd taken should have taken care of any motion sickness.  
  
It felt like a very long time before a bell rang, and what seemed like hundreds of teenagers poured out of rooms, surging towards the doors like a human tide. School was finally out, and they didn't seem to have much desire to loiter here. Gradually, Scott noticed that there were some filtering into the gym instead, most likely for football practice. He tried to watch for Buffy, hoping that he'd recognize her.  
  
"Hey… Scott and Genie, right?" Buffy was standing there, looking cheerful. But there was something in the way that she held herself that didn't quite match the carefree teenage appearance, something that hinted at caution and secrets. "Is she okay?"  
  
"Jean." The weak sounding correction from his girlfriend was accompanied by a small smile. "We were hoping to catch you before you left."  
  
"Really?" Buffy looked at them, a small crinkle forming as she considered that. "Any reason in particular?"  
  
For a moment, Scott wondered how to break the news, but he finally decided to just be blunt – at least, with the very short version. "Remember how you thought that it was odd that we're both named Summers? I did a bit of checking… we're related. I thought… I wanted to try to learn a bit about you other than the fact that you apparently like to ice skate, and drink iced mochas."  
  
Buffy smiled then, a real expression of delight. "Neat! Why don't we go somewhere quieter to talk, we can figure out a bit more than you're a Summers, I'm a Summers… and life is always better away from school."  
  
They ended up in a little park, with ice cream, sitting at a picnic table. Jean seemed to be feeling much better, maybe it had just been too many teenagers and their emotions after all? The weather was nice and sunny, with a slight breeze that had picked up.  
  
Licking at a dribble of her ice cream, Buffy looked over. "So, what is the connection? I mean, I'm guessing it's through our dads, but… how?"  
  
"It's actually pretty simple. Your dad, Hank Summers, was the younger brother of my dad, Christopher Summers. He… my parents died in a plane crash. It kept me from knowing my family. But that's the connection." Scott felt a bit nervous. And he had no idea how to let her know that he'd discovered her father was involved with the Friends of Humanity, and no idea how she'd react if he did tell her. He had family. It was wonderful, and nerve-racking all at once.  
  
"So, that makes you my cousin." Buffy was quiet for a moment, looking at him. "And it makes you Dawn's cousin, which will be… hmm. She'd probably prefer a cousin more her own age."  
  
"That's not the only thing." Jean added, glancing at Scott in a not so subtle prompt.  
  
Scott sighed, and looked over at Buffy, who was looking at the two of them curiously.  
  
"I do know that the two of you are mutants. You were at the skating rink." Buffy licked at her ice cream again. "I'm not going to suddenly freak out about it."  
  
"It's not quite that simple." Scott paused, and pushed the remnants of his hot fudge sundae around in the bowl, staring at the darker swirls of fudge now mingling with the chocolate ice cream. "It's genetic, and it can run in families. Because I'm a mutant, that means that you… you and Dawn, actually. You might be mutants."  
  
Buffy sighed, letting her head fall forward so that her forehead smacked into the upraised palm of her left hand. "Not this conversation again. I went through one a lot like that with my mom. I'm pretty sure that I'm not a mutant, I have no problem with mutants who aren't blasting holes in the wall or wrecking my life, and it's perfectly fine with me that you are."  
  
Scott blinked, feeling a bit puzzled. "You had… you had a talk about possibly being a mutant already? Why?"  
  
Buffy waved her hand, as if it wasn't important or she hadn't paid too much attention. "Something about her dad being a mutant, and she thought that we might have inherited something from him. Boring stuff about how he used to scare away the guys that she was interested in. The over protective dad stuff that mine doesn't do anymore."  
  
"Well, that might make a few things easier." Jean sounded relieved. "We were a bit worried about how to explain things to your mother, and to your sister Dawn."  
  
"The direct way would be good." Buffy glanced at her watch and frowned. "Yikes. How's this for a plan – we go find her, you can explain that I don't need to be grounded for not coming directly home, and spring the surprise, we're related thing. The mutant thing won't even be an issue, though she might find it sort of funny."  
  
Scott smiled at her, taking another bite of his ice cream. Everything was going smoothly, with no hysterics, or denials, or any problems at all. "That sounds like a good plan. But we might as well finish our ice cream before we go looking for her, right?"  
  
"Works for me. I can even play tour-guide on the way back." Buffy smiled cheerfully, and took a bite out of her cone.

------------------------------------------------------

Sabertooth growled, disliking the noise and the pungent stench of diesel fuel, smoke, and oil that permeated the air. Wheels clacked, and he could hear freight yard workers shouting to each other as they fastened some train cars onto the engines, and separated others. Slipping from the boxcar, he made his way towards the edge of the freight yard.  
  
As he inhaled, a scent teased at his mind. He couldn't remember from where, but he knew this woman – this was Joyce! When had she grown up, she wasn't supposed to be a grown woman… He growled again as he realized that she'd grown up while he was away, meandering as a feral beast and then supporting Magneto. Had she thought that he was dead, or did she think that he'd abandoned her?  
  
He could deal with that after he found her. Really found her instead of just catching a fading scent trail. Focusing on the scent, he started traveling towards the town, leaping over the fence that marked the freight yard boundary. But Joyce's wasn't the only fading scent trail. There were the usual scattering of dogs and cats, not as many as he'd expect for this size of a town. A few deer had been in the small park to the west. But there were a great many other scents, many of which had also come in on trains, things that he couldn't put names to, but smelled predatory and made him growl.  
  
As he followed the scent, he wondered yet again how much of Victor Creed was left, and how much of the man that he was now was Sabertooth. It might matter a great deal to his daughter…  
  
Something else growled at him, and he could smell something that managed to be a little like wolf, a little like lizard, and a bit like a runny nose all at once. There was a scrabbling of clawed feet, and he rolled to the side as a slime-coated scaled thing rushed past. It's shoulders came to his hips, and looked both vicious and stupid.  
  
It skidded to a stop, and turned, revealing pale, blind-looking eyes. It crouched, lips pulling away to reveal two rows of yellowed sharp teeth. Apparently, the slime coated lizard wolf thought that it was the biggest, baddest, predator around.  
  
He leaned forward, flexing his claws as he wondered how much the slime might make this blows slide, and roared at the beast. He might not have as many teeth, but he wasn't about to back down from some ugly, smelly dog-thing.  
  
Stubby ears fell, and the whippy tail tucked beneath its legs as the thing backed away, whimpering as droplets of slime and saliva fell to the ground. Slowly, it backed away, no longer willing to challenge him, and scurried into the bushes.  
  
For a moment, he chuckled, feeling oddly pleased that the beast had backed down. It would have been easy enough for him to kill it, and he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to keep something like that as a pet, but… Maybe it was one of those feral urges he had now.  
  
Then he realized that the slime and drool from the beast had made him lose Joyce's scent. With a sigh, he decided to just keep heading towards the middle of town. After all, if she lived in Sunnydale, wouldn't her scent be places in town? Shouldn't he be able to pick the scent trail up elsewhere? "Stupid lizard-mutt."  
  
Clearly, Sunnydale wasn't the sleepy little town that it first seemed. There had been that lizard-mutt, and there had been over a dozen other strong, non-human scent trails. What had caused them? Growling, he realized that the town also had many crisscrossing scent trails that had been made by vampires. Lots of vampires.  
  
Stalking, he wondered if there was anything else that he'd known that would be useful in this town. He'd been a soldier once, and it had been during that time that he'd learned about vampires. He just wished that he remembered the circumstances.  
  
"Been here less than ten minutes and I already don't like the place." Unhappily, he wondered why his daughter had moved here, and how long he'd be stuck in this vampire infested town. And if there were that many vampires, what did those other smells come from?  
  
End MuF22: First Impressions. 


	23. Family Reunion

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Joyce, Sabertooth, Buffy, Scott & Jean  
  
number 23 in the 'Messed Up Family' universe  
  
Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, anyone else ask  
  
note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 BtVS. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.  
  
Joyce had managed to behave during the talk with the attorney. No growling, no threats of painful dismemberment for the teacher, and no gouging anything with her nails. Instead, they'd just had a nice walk, discussing how many anti-discrimination laws had been broken in there. Lisa Evans would soon be pressing a lawsuit against Dawn's teacher, and it would be fun to watch.  
  
But all of the frustration of watching that class, and the period of holding her temper in check while talking to Ms. Evans... Joyce was really hoping for something to let off a bit of pressure. Maybe a couple of minion vampires - no, still daylight. Some sort of vicious demon? Anything?  
  
She stalked, her path an outward spiral that took her closer to the edge of town. This was Sunnydale, there had to be something dangerous that she could find and rip apart. Or at least something to put up a good fight. It was too early to hunt up Angel for a long sparring session.  
  
The wind shifted, and a scent teased at her awareness. Buffy was that direction, ignoring the fact that unless she was training with Giles, she was supposed to go home after school. There was also something else, a scent that she almost didn't recognize. Her father. Joyce felt her eyes tear up, her stomach knotted even tighter, and her nails cut into her palm. The scent brought up so many emotions, both the old ones of Daddy's pumpkin, of an abandoned teenager, and the angry woman who'd felt as if his survival was a personal betrayal.  
  
Joyce felt the growl that filled her as she stalked towards the scent. How dare he? How dare he abandon them all those years ago and then show up here? Part of her mind was certain that there had to be an explanation, insisting that he wouldn't know that she could smell him. But her emotions didn't care. She moved closer, keeping him upwind of her, her motions becoming hunter-silent.  
  
He was looking away, his posture suggesting that he was studying the scents on the breeze. His back was to her, and he didn't appear to have heard her approach. Perfect.  
  
"You abandoned us!" Her shriek didn't start until she was airborne, part of her wanting to make him hurt for that abandonment.   
  
He started to turn, reacting to the shout with his own growl. But it wasn't fast enough to prevent him from being knocked to the ground, shoulder first. He twisted, turning it into a roll and tossing her away, ignoring the long scrapes that her claws left along his arms.  
  
Joyce managed to land on her feet, and lashed out with her foot, the blow aimed at his head. He went into a roll, and threw a fistful of leaves and sand towards her, a low growl emerging at the same time.  
  
Yellow eyes narrowed, and he glared back, his claws ready to strike as they circled. His head tilted, and he got a confused look, testing the breeze as they turned. Finally, a single word slipped out, far softer than most would believe him capable of. "Pumpkin?"  
  
Neither of them seemed to notice the group of people that had just ran towards them. Buffy, a red-haired woman, and a dark haired man with the visor. But when a blast of red energy crackled towards them from the man's eyes, both Joyce and her father dropped and rolled out of the way.  
  
He half crouched, glaring towards the newcomers. "Summers."  
  
"Yes?" The word came at almost the same moment from the dark haired man with the now-glowing red sunglasses and the blond girl.  
  
For a moment, the large man was still, and then his gaze flickered over both of the people answering to 'Summers' and back to Joyce. Slowly, he stood up, now looking at Joyce with something close to sorrow. "Pumpkin? Joyce?"  
  
"How does this guy know my mom?" Buffy's question fell into the air, not diffusing the tension of the moment at all.  
  
Joyce forced her hands to relax, letting them relax from curving talons to nothing more than fingers and hands. She felt… well, not exactly better. But it was time to actually talk and think reasonably. And first things first… "Buffy, who are these people, and why aren't you at home?"  
  
"This is Scott, and his girlfriend Jean. Apparently, his dad was my dad's older brother. Kind of a family reunion sort of thing?" Buffy's voice had that tone that meant she was trying to figure out a way to wiggle out of trouble. "Who's the really big guy with claws?"  
  
"Why is Sabertooth in Sunnydale?" Emerged from the man that Buffy had identified as Scott.  
  
Joyce let out a puff of breath, wondering how Scott and Jean knew her dad, and just when he'd started going by 'Sabertooth' anyhow. "I'm not quite sure why he's here, I hadn't got that far yet. Buffy, say hello to Victor Creed, your grandfather."  
  
Buffy just made a small noise, her jaw dropping as she looked at the towering figure. "he... my... wha? Yikes. No wonder you said he scared away the guys."  
  
For a moment, her dad looked at Buffy, and then his eyes narrowed as he turned back to Joyce. With a deep growl, he pointed one sharp claw at her and rumbled, "You aren't old enough to have a teenage daughter!"  
  
"Your father is Sabertooth?" The woman seemed to be swaying on her feet, but Joyce couldn't tell if it was from an effort not to laugh, or from whatever had left her smelling almost ill.  
  
Joyce swatted at him, frowning when he simply blocked the blow. "Yes, he's my father. My supposedly-dead father, who apparently wasn't dead after all. And I'm quite old enough to have two teenage daughters." Glaring at her father, she continued. "I'm old enough that I could have more than a teenage daughter, which you would know if you'd stuck around."  
  
"He's a mutant, right?" Buffy's question sounded a little faint. "This is what you meant by some mutants looked more threatening?"  
  
Her father glared at Buffy, with a faint growl. "I'm a mutant. Of course, in this damn town…"  
  
"Buffy, I did tell you that my father was a mutant. And I mentioned that he was larger and more intimidating than I am." Joyce frowned, wondering if it had just slipped Buffy's mind, or if her daughter hadn't been paying attention.   
  
"But… Mom, I figured maybe Dad's height, or maybe Angel's height. He's…" One hand gestured, indicating the sheer size of Victor Creed. "If he's that tall, why am I so short?"  
  
"Blame your father." Joyce sighed, and looked over at her father. "Speaking of fathers… Why did they tell me that you were dead? Clearly, that isn't the case."  
  
"It's a little fuzzy." He sighed, and one sharp-clawed hand ran through his long hair. "I think they put me into some sort of experimental program. I can't remember anything clearly from before about fifteen years back."  
  
"Fifteen years?" Jean sounded stunned. "That's how long the Professor said Logan…"  
  
Joyce looked at him, part of her wanting to insist that a story of government experimentation and experiment-induced amnesia sounded awfully convenient. But nobody could fake the amount of confusion in his eyes and his scent. "While you were officially dead, we had to grow up. Graydon studied law, and then… he went into politics. As for me…"  
  
"You got married and divorced. Where is the miserable jerk?" The growled words were accompanied by a flexing of claws. Then, the other thumb gestured towards Scott. "And why someone related to him?"  
  
"Purely a coincidence. And the last I heard, Hand was vacationing in Baha with his secretary." Joyce shrugged, part of her wanting to fling herself into her daddy's arms and get a big hug, part of her wanting to send him out to gut Hank, and part of her insisting that she could handle her problems on her own now.  
  
"I'm related to… someone who's related to Sabertooth?" Scott's voice was an unhappy noise, not quite a whimper.  
  
Buffy had been staring at her grandfather, and slowly, a question emerged. "If mom can do the stuff she can to the baddies, what can he do?"  
  
"I think this is getting rather complicated. Buffy, why don't you take Scott and Jean to the house. I'll go pick up Dawn from Janet's, and…" She glanced over at her father, for a moment feeling like the hurt and lonely sixteen year old that she'd been so long ago. "You can come with me if you'd like."  
  
"This is just too weird." Buffy muttered, her hands reaching out to tow Scott and Jean along with her. "I'm going to blame this on the Hellmouth. It's got to be the Helllmouth…"  
  
"I have… two granddaughters." It sounded as if he was testing the words out, trying to figure out the idea. "You shouldn't be old enough to have teenagers."  
  
Now certain that Buffy was out of earshot, Joyce sighed. "Dad, you've been gone for almost forty years. If I'd got married right away, I could have grandchildren of my own by now."  
  
"Forty…" Startled, he looked at her. "How old am I?"   
  
"Well, if the records that you had when I was born were correct, you married Mom when you were twenty seven, had me six years later, vanished when I was sixteen, which was thirty eight years ago in November…" Joyce let the words trail as she did the math. "Then you'd be eighty-seven. Of course, I have my doubts about those records, considering that Angel said you were working as an assassin a hundred and forty years ago."  
  
"I was what? How long ago?" He sounded shocked. "Who's this Angel person?"  
  
"He's a vampire. He said he ran into you then… I have the suspicion that you hurt him a great deal." Joyce gave a small shrug. "I don't think that he'd make that up."  
  
"Why are you spending time with a vampire?" He was quiet for a few moments as he followed her back towards the school parking lot. His next words were barely audible. "I sound like an overprotective parent."  
  
"I know, and you were." She sighed, and shook her head. "Why did it end up being so far that I walked before running into you?"  
  
Behind her, she could hear her father chuckling. "I'm not that bad… am I?"  
  
End Family Reunion. 


	24. Unhappy Relations

author: Lucinda

rating: pg13

main characters: Joyce, Sabertooth, Buffy, Scott & Jean, Dawn

number 24 in the 'Messed Up Family' universe

Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.

distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, anyone else ask

note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 BtVS. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.

"I didn't mean to go away," her father's voice was a growl.

"I believe you," Joyce replied, heading for her car. "But at the time, all I knew was that they said you were dead, and that left me and Graydon all alone. He took it badly, turned all sulky and stopped really talking to anyone, and now… he gave up being a lawyer to go into politics."

"I know what he's been up to there," the growl was stronger. "How did I father someone that damn foolish and pig-headed?"

"I've been wondering how I could be related to him for years. But the resemblance is too strong to deny, so I guess I am. For about the past thirty-five years we've been mostly just ignoring each other."

"So you got married. Why a Summers?" her dad's voice sounded almost sad.

"Hank is older than Scott, so don't get started on things from that angle. AS for why, I rather foolishly let him sweep me off my feet, I thought he cared for me, and I figured that he'd be a good provider," Joyce paused, glancing around before crossing the street. She had definitely caught the fading scent of another one of those gray lamprey-things. "As it happened, Hank turned out to be a jerk, and we separated."

"Do you need me to hunt him down and gut him?"

"It's sweet of you to ask," Joyce smiled, remembering the days when she'd been his sweet little pumpkin, and Daddy could fix almost anything. "But I think that would be too quick. He's going to be paying alimony and child support, and now that I'm back in shape, I look younger and healthier than he does, though not younger than his current bimbo. Then again, I like not getting age carded when I ask for a drink."

"You're not old enough…" He stopped and sighed. "You are old enough to drink though, aren't you?"

"Yes," Joyce clicked the button to unlock the car, and motioned for him to get in the passenger side. "I've been married, had sex, given birth to two daughters, divorced, and have my own house and art gallery. I'm not a little girl anymore."

There was a little noise, one that she was sure meant that her father didn't like the idea of his baby girl – no matter that she was over fifty years old – not being a virgin any longer. Then again, she was fairly certain that even the appeal of grandchildren wasn't enough to make most parents like the idea of their baby girl having sex.

"Why a place with so many vampires? Why not somewhere normal?"

"The vampires… were unexpected. Although it does make a few things that happened before the move make a lot more sense. Apparently, Buffy is a vampire Slayer, and she has the unfortunate destiny to be chosen by fate to kill vampires and demons. Stupid scholars who didn't raise them had the stupider belief that she should go fight them alone, but I don't think so. We had to leave L.A. after a combination of the divorce, and she burned down her old school gym," Joyce sighed as she started the car. At least it wasn't that far to Janet's house.

"Burned down… vampires? Or is my granddaughter a firebug?" Her father was smiling now, as if remembering his own youthful misbehaviors. "What… I know I've heard that term somewhere before… I don't think I like it."

"I know I don't like it, but it does seem to fit. Buffy and I had a long talk, and there are a few things that couldn't have come from me. Although if there's mutations in the Summers side… Oh, I wish I could see Hank's face when he learns that!"

"He's involved in hate groups," her father muttered, claw tips tapping against the dash. "Your ex hates mutants."

"I knew that he had strong prejudices, that's part of why I divorced him. If I'd known that when we first met, we never would have been married. Though I might not have my girls then… I think Buffy has your temper, minus the claws, of course."

"At least she's got something to do with it if she's the Slayer," he grumbled. "They didn't both get it?"

"No, Dawn sulks, a little like a cross between Hank and Mom," Joyce smiled, then frowned as she considered both of those people. "Why did Mom leave us anyhow?"

Her Dad just shifted in his seat, awkwardly shrugging, "We had a few issues. I thought that we could work through them... It was only one of the things I was wrong about with your mother."

Joyce stopped the car in front of he house, stepping out to walk up to the door. She hoped that Dawn had behaved herself, and wondered if they'd been talking about the mutant paper. The door opened before she could knock, and suddenly Dawn was giving her a big hug.

"Mom! Did you talk to someone about Ms. Goreman? Can we make her go away? Am I going to fail the class? Janet said she had to do a paper on scary mutants too, and it was horrible…" Dawn suddenly stiffened. "Mom? Who's in the car?"

"Your grandfather is unexpectedly in town, and wanted to see you," Joyce replied, trying not to smile. "Did you do something to your hair? I don't recall you having red highlights this morning…"

"You know that fluorescent lighting makes everyone look bad…" Dawn shrugged, her eyes worried and definitely a paler hazel than before. "Wait… grandpa… from your side?"

Joyce nodded, wondering what Dawn would do.

Dawn let go, and marched towards the car, her hands clenched at her sides. "So, you finally decided to show up? You made Mom think you were dead, and now… now you show up and expect us to play the happy little family? I don't think so."

Her father blinked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Dawn. Looking past her to Joyce, he whispered, "She's definitely related to your mother."

"Hey! I'm trying to yell at you!" Dawn protested.

Joyce sighed, accepting Dawn's backpack from Janet, and returned to the car. "Apparently, things were more complicated than we knew about, and this isn't the place. Buffy found a relative on your father's side, and they will be meeting us back home if Buffy can give them directions. A cousin and his girlfriend. They'll probably either want to keep being shocked at your grandfather or to explain to you that as you have a mutant relative, you might be a mutant yourself."

"Didn't we have that talk already?" Dawn asked, sliding into the back seat behind her mother.

"Yes. And now, like Buffy, you know what I meant when I say that my father is taller and scarier looking than me."

"So, I look like grandma?" Dawn asked, her voice soft.

"You glare like her. As for looks… I can see a resemblance, though that's a tricky question," Dad commented.

"Why? Either I look like her or I don't. Or I could have her cheekbones and Mom's nose… Though I think I got Dad's hair," Dawn mused.

"I met her through work… the parts that I wasn't supposed to talk much about then and I can't remember much about now. She was another spy…" He paused, claws tapping again at the dash, and then added, "She's another mutant."

"Mother was a mutant?" Joyce blinked, glancing at her father. "But if Mother was… is a mutant, and you're a mutant, why isn't Graydon?"

"Hell if I know," her father shrugged.

"I'd rather Dawn didn't start using words like that," Joyce commented out of habit. Of course, she'd known how to talk like that, not that she'd used such language, by the time she was Dawn's age. "Wait… you said 'is', does that mean she's still alive too? I could never find anything about her after she left, it was like she'd never existed at all."

"Julia didn't really exist. She was just another lie, another mask. The woman who played Julia for a while is still alive… somewhere. She's a shape-shifter, she could be anywhere, anyone," For a moment, he focused on Dawn's reflection. "The shape of your face looks a lot like hers, when she wasn't hiding. At least, when she was the shape that I think was real for her. That could have been a lie too."

"A shape-shifter? How did she normally look? Was her hair blond like Mom's, or darker like mine?" Dawn was curious, her earlier anger pushed aside.

"In what I think is her natural shape, her hair's dark red, her eyes are yellow, and her skin's the same blue as your fingernails. She can change all of it when she wants too, to anything else… anyone else, up to a certain weight. She'd have trouble looking just like me because I'm bigger than her. She's been a spy, slipping into anywhere, speaking the language, wearing the face of someone who belongs… I met her over in Germany, behind enemy lines. She'd been doing it for a long time then," his words were soft, spoken as much to himself as to Dawn.

"Behind enemy lines… Couldn't you get deported for that during the Cold War?" Dawn asked, leaning forward.

"The Cold War was later. When I met her, they were shooting behind the lines, soldiers in the trenches were shooting anything that moved between the lines..." shaking his head, he laced his fingers together. "She could play the part of a lady as well as any other part, but the woman has a vicious streak in her as big as any I ever saw."

"If she was a spy, maybe Julia was just a way for whoever she was before to vanish for a while," Joyce mused. At least her father was the way she remembered, at least he was real. Not entirely nice, and flawed, his memories damaged, but he was real. He was the Daddy that she remembered.

"Maybe," he agreed, eyes darkening. "But I wanted a family. I wanted to try for a normal life."

"Normal doesn't happen here," Dawn muttered.

Joyce snorted. "Normal is what you make of it. I will run my gallery, and watch out for both of my girls to the extent of my ability, and do my best to raise you both to be strong, healthy, and of reasonably sound mind, capable of thinking for yourselves and defending yourself and those you care for. Even if that means from vampires, bigoted teachers, and fishy-smelling lamprey-demons."

Buffy shook her head as she followed Scott and Jean back to their rental car. "Mom said he was taller, but that's just… that's not fair. If he's that tall, why am I so short? And he doesn't look old enough to have kids my age, let alone Mom's age…"

"He probably has a regenerative factor, like someone else that we've met," Jean offered. "Logan doesn't look any older than your mom. His memories only go back fifteen years, but he can't remember ever looking younger. With his healing factor, it's impossible to determine his age. Sabertooth is probably the same way."

"I can't believe he has a family," Scott muttered. "It's just… he's Sabertooth!"

"So, what's the what with my scary grandfather? You both seemed seriously wigged to see him," Buffy asked.

"He was working with Magneto, terrified people, almost killed one of our tea… friends. Nothing that we've seen even hints that he might be the sort of guy with a wife and kids," Scott grumbled, glaring off at the clouds.

"To be honest, we haven't seen a lot of him, and know nothing about his private life," Jean added. "Though it's apparent that at least once upon a time, he did have a wife and kids."

"Hey, does this mean I have more relatives on your side? Dad never talked much about his family, I guess they had a fight or something and stopped talking… You said there was your dad who died, but… anyone else?" Buffy asked, hoping to change the subject from her grandpa being a scary almost criminal.

"My grandparents are in Alaska, though they are getting pretty old. I… I used to have a brother," Scott admitted.

Buffy noticed the past-tense 'used to' and winced. Her mind flashed to a hundred different ways that she'd seen or read about for people to die. "I'm sorry…"

"It was the plane crash that killed our parents," Scott added.

Buffy nodded, wondering if it made her a terrible person that she was glad it had been a plan crash instead of some evil beast. Not something eating his brother, or turning him into a vampire, just a flamey impacty death.

Nothing more was said as they reached the car and settled inside, Buffy shifting her legs against the hot car seat.

"Buffy, there was something that you said earlier… What's a Hellmouth?" Jean asked

"I said what?" Buffy looked up, catching Jean's reflected gaze. "Ohhh… I don't suppose you'd forget ever hearing that word?"

"No." Scott and Jean's reply was simultaneous.

Buffy sighed, letting her shoulders slump. "Okay, but I'm not the best person to explain it. A Hellmouth is this weird, scary, bad mojo thing. It works like a giant magnet for weird coincidences to happen and scary monsters to show up and try to eat people and end the world. Why's ending the world such a big goal anyhow, I mean, if you destroy it, where will you live? Do they ever stop to think about that? Nooo… Anyhow, lots of strangeness, a variety of demons – and no, that doesn't mean weird looking mutants - and hordes of vampires. We get it all here."

"Jean?" the tone of Scott's voice made it clear that he was asking something, but it was less clear what he wanted to know.

"She's serious. Buffy isn't trying to play a joke, she really believes what she's telling us about demons, vampires and strange things happening," Jean replied, rubbing at her temples.

Buffy frowned, considering what Jean had just said. Then, "Hey! No reading my mind. It could scar you for life. And turn right at the next stoplight."

"You expect us to believe in demons and vampires?" Scott demanded, turning with his hands clenched at the wheel.

"Actually, I expect you to repress the weirdness away like most people do. Those demons? Wild animal attacks, strange accidents with home appliances, lots and lots of people just vanishing. The vampires are supposed to be gangs on PCP, and people seem to stumble and land on their barbeque forks a lot. No reason at all why a town this size would have sixty-some churches and fourteen cemeteries…" Buffy let her words trail off, and pointed at the hospital. "We have a pretty big hospital for such a small town, don't we? There's a whole trauma wing, and Mom says there's going to be something on the ballot asking for a tax raise to expand the hospital."

Scott and Jean stared as they drove past. Jean whispered, "That's… That's bigger than the one I did my residency at…"

"The city morgue's bigger than the jail," Buffy added, glaring at the big, flashing 'Emergency' sign. She'd been there several times already, and the sign-in lady was starting to recognize her.

"So… there's something called a Hellmouth that causes this place to be dangerous?" Scott asked, his tone saying that he was done arguing.

"Yep, the knot of evil, potential gateway to hell, magnet for the evil and abnormal. Stay here after dark and I'm sure you'll see something freaky and dangerous," Buffy grumbled. It wasn't really fair that she had to fight everything that the Hellmouth had thrown at her so far, but she wasn't really alone. Not with Mom ready to back her up and puree demons in cemeteries… ick.

"I came here expecting to find a couple cousins… not a couple cousins and the in-law from hell," Scott mused.

"Blame the Hellmouth," Buffy retorted. "Wait, I know he's tall and you said something about him working with Magneto, but isn't calling him the in-law from Hell a bit much?"

Scott and Jean glanced at each other and shook their heads. "No."

"Wow… I bet that's going to make dinner tense," Buffy commented. "Oh, turn left! Look for the yellow house."

Life in Sunnydale certainly wasn't boring. She just hoped nobody got maimed over dinner.

End MMUF24: Unhappy Relations.


	25. Extended Family Dinner

author: Lucinda

rating: pg13

main characters: Joyce, Sabertooth, Buffy, Scott & Jean, Dawn

number 25 in the 'Messed Up Family' universe

Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.

distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, anyone else ask

note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 BtVS. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.

Scott had not been amused to be invited to a dinner that would also have Sabertooth. Jean had looked amused, but hadn't protested, though Joyce suspected that Jean had been mostly amused by Scott. Buffy had jus watched, her face suggesting that all sorts of question were trying to emerge. Dawn had just sighed before dropping to sulk in a chair.

Eventually, the arguing lost it's amusement value. "Buffy, I want you and Dawn to go set the table for six. Scott and Jean will be staying, ans I think I'd like to hear more about the mutants on Hank's side of the family. There will be no fighting at the table."

"You can't expect everybody to agree, especially not this group," Jean was frowning at Sabertooth when she spoke.

"I didn't say that everyone had to agree. I said no fighting, which means no fists, claws, thrown cutlery or plates, no hurling the food or beverages, no breaking or throwing the furniture, and no threats of bodily harm. Try not to shout either," Joyce frowned, certain that she was forgetting something. "And no laser beams from his eyes, or whatever it is. That would also count as fighting."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" her father's eyes twinkled in amusement, something that Joyce remembered from long ago years.

"Other than not taunt Scott? Just because I hadn't run into vampires elsewhere doesn't mean they aren't other places than Sunnydale. Mutants are everywhere, as are people who dislike them for being different. What we need is an exchange of information," Joyce sighed, running her hand through her hair. "And having that exchange with food will keep the fighting down."

It didn't take long before everyone had settled around the table, Jean helping by floating the food from the kitchen. For a few moments, things were quiet, with nothing more than requests to pass the roast, or the vegetables, or the bread.

It was Scott who broke the quiet, a multitude of questions in a single word - "Vampires?"

"Are real," came from Buffy, Joyce and her dad at the same time.

"They smell dead, they're stronger than they look, and always good for a fight," her dad commented, a reflective look on his face. "They like to bite."

"Stake through the heart, decapitation, fire and sunlight kill them. Holy water and crosses burn them, just like in the movies," Buffy paused, "Oh, and they can't come into a house without an invitation."

"Vampires are really real?" Jean asked, her voice soft. "But if they are, why haven't we heard about them before?"

"I was fighting them in LA, before the divorce," Buffy was staring at her plate, turning innocent vegetables into mush with her fork. "Merrick told me that people don't want to know, they find other ways to explain things. Safe ways. It wasn't a vampire, just some crazy on drugs. Someone fell onto a barbeque fork. It's just wishful thinking making you think you saw your vanished friend out the window last night."

"Except that sometimes it isn't," Jean whispered. "How do you deal with that?"

"A Watcher's supposed to be there for me. And now I can talk to Mom about things. She won't let me go out by myself now that she knows," Buffy gave a thin smile "But most Slayers don't have to worry about that for too long. I'm sixteen now; from what the books say, I'll be lucky to see eighteen. A miracle if I live to graduate."

"The hell you say!" "By yourself?!?" "Eighteen is lucky?" There was a loud blending of shouts and several growls from all around the table at those words.

Joyce's hand slapped the table, the sound causing the commotion to lessen. "I think we can all agree that Buffy just said a few very unwelcome words. None of us intend to let my daughter be killed, or fight vampires alone. It's time to do some thinking and planning, not shouting and growling."

"Nothing wrong with a bit of growling," her father rumbled.

"Only if things start and stop with growling, and have nothing useful in between," Joyce retorted.

"I absorb energy and convert it," Scott spoke in the quiet, frowning at the table. "There's a chance that Buffy might have something similar."

"What's a Watcher?" Jean asked, "and what's a Slayer?"

"Okay, vampires and demons are real. Lots of the bad stuff in horror stories - the old ones, at least – are real. Slayers fight the baddies, and Watchers are the guys with the old books that tell us what that thing is and how to kill it," Buffy sighed, spearing a bite of roast. "I'm stronger and faster than normal people, so the Watchers figured that I must be a Slayer."

"Dismemberment generally works well," her dad commented, one finger tapping at his chin. "Now, what's this about alone, and why doesn't it sound like it was your idea?"

"You seem awfully young to be fighting vampires," Jean looked at Buffy, and then at Joyce. "And why wouldn't your mother have known before?"

"Because I was too busy trying to hold on to a vanishing illusion," Joyce shook her head. "I'm not married to Hank anymore, and I no longer care if he'd like the way things are happening. I don't know very much about how the Watchers work, but I do know that the one here said a few things about destiny, about fate, and the safety of the world. He said something about Buffy being chosen as the Slayer, but nothing about how, when or why Buffy."

"Scott absorbs energy? Maybe that's why Buffy never got tired after long days practicing with the cheerleading squad?" Dawn offered. "It's not like she's eating that much."

"Like a plant? I'm not green, I don't have Clorox in me, and I do so eat!" Buffy protested.

"Chlorophyll, not clorox," Jean corrected. "And it might be possible. If you absorbed the energy, it could fuel increased strength and reflexes."

"Neat," Buffy grinned.

The rest of dinner passed with a tangled discussion of vampires and demons and how to kill them, places that Buffy knew were centers of demonic activity, warnings about the Friends of Humanity and a few smaller anti-mutant groups, and a few complaints about being a mutant in general.

As Scott and Jean left to return to their hotel room, Buffy called out, "Watch for the vamps. They need invites to houses, not hotel rooms."

Joyce sighed, thinking, 'Thank God there won't be too many dinners like this. Between the hostility between them and my father, Buffy being stuck as the Slayer, and Dad having vanished all those years ago… There would be bodies. And I'm not sure they'd all belong to demons and vampires.'

End MMUF 25: Extended Family Dinner


	26. Angry Thoughts

Author: Lucinda

rating: pg13

main characters: Joyce, Sabertooth, Buffy, Scott & Jean, Dawn

number 26 in the 'Messed Up Family' universe

Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.

distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, anyone else ask

note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 BtVS. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.

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Joyce sighed as she prepared her gallery for opening. Dinner last night had been... interesting. There had been growling and arguing, and Buffy's statements about being the Slayer and having a destiny, which had disturbed Scott and Jean as well as her not at all dead father. Joyce had found it rather amusing that Scott Summers and her father had looked almost appalled to find themselves agreeing with each other.

Fifteen years ago, her father had been in some sort of military medical experimentation that had left his memories patchy and scrambled, and may have been connected with a man named Logan that Scott and Jean knew. Her father had remained quiet about this Logan, and Joyce remembered that same habit from her own youth, when he'd chosen not to talk about some of the things he knew or had been doing. They didn't know how long this experimental program had run, though Joyce did wonder if it had some connection with him not returning home when she was young.

What he'd said about her mother... She didn't even know if he'd remembered that she hadn't known. Her mother had been a spy, had at one time worked with her dad on those classified missions that he'd never talked about. Had been - probably still was, actually - a shape-shifter.

That brought up whole new concerns about Dawn resembling 'Julia Chambers-Creed' and identity. Dawn had seemed not to know anything about her sudden red highlights, had claimed that her nails had just turned blue... And her father had said that her mother when he thought she was showing her real self had blue skin and red hair. Blue skin... that could be a problem, especially if Mrs. Goreman was still teaching. Unfortunately, she had no idea how long the legal process could go for dealing with that woman, though she was hoping that the Sunnydale nightlife would render it a non-issue.

It had been interesting to get to know a little more about Scott and Jean. If she wasn't mistaken, some day those two would be married, tying Jean to the family as well. The fact that they didn't have problem with mutants as a whole was a relief.

She hadn't been quite certain what to think about the fact that with the six of them sitting at the table, not a single one of them was precisely normal. Scott had those eye beams, Jean was telekinetic - and wasn't that a useful ability? There was her father, and her with her inherited portion of his abilities, Buffy who was probably the Vampire Slayer, and Dawn who seemed to be developing at least a tiny amount of shape-changing, or at least self recoloring. Even if she never learned to reshape herself that could save her a small fortune in cosmetics...

Her father was in town. Her father... and that was far more complicated than it had been forty years ago. She had grown up, started a life, made mistakes, had teenage children of her own... He said that he wanted to stay, wanted to get to know his granddaughters, to get to know the adult version of his Pumpkin. He also kept grumbling that it wasn't right that she had daughters, wasn't she still supposed to be his little girl? Part of her was hopeful that it would work, that they could be a family, that she could trust him to stay. That he wouldn't vanish again.

She wanted to believe that it hadn't been his fault. Then again, she'd also wanted to believe Hank when he'd promised not to work such long hours, when he'd promised there was nothing going on with his secretary. When he'd promised no more affairs.

Maybe it would be best to wait and see how things went.

Of course, this would be terrible for the demons and vampires of Sunnydale. Joyce found herself smiling at that thought, imagining heaps of vampire ash, sprays and puddles of multi colored demon blood as well as scattered bits and pieces.

She still wanted to get a better idea about this Magento man, and how her father had become tangled up with him. That was a conversation for another day, perhaps while hunting demons. Maybe it would also give her some idea what he wanted and why. Perhaps it would also help her figure out what her father had been up to lately, and what to think of him now. Now that he was also Sabertooth instead of just Vic Creed.

It also made her snicker to think of the way he'd been aggravated that she'd been talking to a vampire. He'd looked like he wanted to forbid it. If she'd still been Buffy's age, she might have found herself getting involved with Angel just because of that disapproval... Fortunately she was older and wiser than Buffy.

The day was uneventful at the art gallery. People browsed, making various comments about the artwork, sometimes admiring, sometimes insulting. She left her assistant to close up, and decided to make her way to the high school and ask Mr. Giles a few questions. A very good point had been raised at dinner last night – how did these people conclude that Buffy was this Slayer? If one was called when the last died – and wasn't that a horrible thought – then was there a pattern to who and where they became Slayers? Did these Watchers give them training beforehand? If so, how did they know who to teach? Since Buffy had told her that the librarian was her Watcher, he had to have some of the answers.

When she reached the school library, he had Buffy jumping rope. For a moment, she thought that was a rather silly thing to be having someone do, and then she immediately scolded herself for thinking like Hank's wife. Jumping rope could help build endurance and improve footwork. Both were useful for all sorts of things, especially if Buffy would be fighting monsters.

"Mr. Giles, I have a few questions for you. I'm afraid they're a bit less librarian like than the last batch I asked you about," Joyce began. She was fairly certain that there was nobody else in the area.

"O-of course, please follow me to my office. Buffy, another five minutes with the jump rope, and then some quarterstaff drills. Would you care for tea while you ask these questions?" Mr. Giles looked a bit worried as he made his way to a small office towards the back of the library.

When they had made their way to his office, he poured himself a cup of tea before murmuring, "What sort of questions do you have?"

"Between you and Buffy, you've told me that Watchers are supposed to locate, train and guide Slayers, so that they can fight the demons and vampires. I want to know how they find them, and if there's only one Slayer in the world, how is it decided where she will be? What sort of training are they supposed to have, and why didn't I notice anyone training Buffy back in Los Angeles?" Joyce kept her hands folded on her lap, refusing to let her fingers curl into claws.

"Training consists of physical conditioning as well as instruction with a variety of melee weapons. Some Slayers are also taught a variety of languages that are useful for researching prophecies or the older demon texts." He paused, and began polishing the lenses of his glasses, despite the fact that Joyce hadn't noticed any streaks or smudges.

"I'm not entirely certain how potential Slayers are located, only that there is an entire branch of the Council responsible for locating them. Training Watchers are then sent to find the girls and… teach them. I can't tell you why you didn't notice anything in Los Angeles, I was in London until two months before you and your daughters moved here, and I was sent directly to Sunnydale. There is always a Watcher stationed over the Hellmouth, so I didn't ask too many questions. When I arrived, I was able to learn that the previous Watcher over the Hellmouth had been slain, most likely by some sort of demons, as I find the official explanation of wild animals to be rather suspect."

"Meaning that you didn't have the chance to ask the last Watcher anything," Joyce mused. "How much communication among Watchers is there between locations?"

"Each Watcher is supposed to send quarterly reports back to Headquarters, though it is up to the individual just how detailed those reports might be. Headquarters are supposed to send us word of any impending prophecies or traveling demons heading towards us in the field. Beyond that, it's mostly limited to Watchers who happen to be friends writing to each other, and I must confess that the friends that I have in the Council aren't stationed anywhere near California. The closest friend is Phillip, and he's in Brazil… or perhaps Elizabeth in Plymouth is as close… All of my other friends are across the ocean."

"So you don't know what sort of training Buffy may have been given," Joyce considered his words. "You didn't tell me how the next Slayer is chosen."

"I suspect that Buffy's training was minimal and focused on the physical. The only languages that she shows any ability with are her rather frustrating efforts at English, French and Spanish. Perhaps I should say American, French and Spanish…" he sighed, put his glasses back on, and sipped at his tea before continuing. "As for how the next Slayer is Chosen, we really aren't certain. There are theories, and a slayer is always in a place where she is needed, but… Mostly we have to make educated guesses, and wait for one of the Watchers of a Potential to report that his student has experienced an increase in strength."

Joyce nodded, and then asked another question, "What indicates that a girl is a potential slayer? I remember from college that in some places, there aren't family names, and what if you're looking for a girl of about ten with a very, very common name? How would they identify which Mary from Bath they wanted, or Jean of Rouen, or which Lian near the Yang-Tze river?"

"Girls who are potential Slayers tend to be a little stronger, a little faster, a little more agile than those who aren't. Not enough to stand out, but enough that when combined with an age and a name, it generally works. Some but not all potentials and Slayers carry distinctive birthmarks. The most reliable and hardest to uncover is the fact that many potentials also have the Slayer dreams. Dreams about the lives of past Slayers, or warnings of trouble to come. They might also be able to sense the demons and vampires, though this is generally either a sign that they are strong Dreamers, soon to be Chosen, or from a mystically inclined family," he paused, and asked, "Do I need to explain about magic, Mrs. Summers?"

"That… might be a topic best left for another time," Joyce replied. "For now, I know that it seems to be real, and can do strange and frightening things."

"A rather limited, if accurate summary," he agreed.

"One more thing, I know that mutant abilities generally start to appear around puberty, with some showing traces earlier. When do girls normally get called as the Slayer? How can we determine if Buffy's strength is from her mutant heritage or from being called as a Slayer?" She was watching him, alert for the faintest sign of attempted deception.

For several moments, Mr. Giles was quiet, before very reluctantly speaking, "I believe the youngest Slayer was ten. Between fourteen and sixteen is more common, though there really isn't a set age. Most of the time, the better trained they are before being called, the longer they survive."

"And how often are new Slayers called?" there was a hint of a growl to her voice.

"It isn't unheard of for there to be a new Slayer every year. Some last longer, but… very few make it to their eighteenth birthdays," he admitted.

Joyce could feel her nails digging into her wrists, and she reminded herself that attacking Giles wouldn't help. He was the only Watcher here trying to help Buffy. That it was bad form to shoot or eviscerate the messenger. "I see."

She left the office, swearing to herself that Buffy would beat those odds. Buffy would survive, would see eighteen, would graduate, would maybe have children of her own… but not too quickly. She would see to it and heaven help whatever tried to stop her. After all, it was a basic survival tip – never mess with the mamma.

End MMUF26: Angry Thoughts.


	27. Therapeutic

Author: Lucinda

Rated t for teen

main characters: Joyce, Angel

number 27 in the 'Messed Up Family' universe

Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.

distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, anyone else ask

note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 BtVS. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.

mmuf27..mmuf27..mmuf27..

Joyce was not a happy woman. Yes, it was good to know that her daughter hadn't picked up her ex-husband's anti-mutant prejudices. It was interesting that her father wasn't actually dead and had showed up in town. Interesting to meet one of Hank's relatives with sense. Disturbing that her younger daughter seemed to be taking after her own mother in some ways. Horrifying and disturbing that her older daughter was probably chosen by destiny to fight vampires and demons. Irritating that Rupert Giles didn't have answers for all of her questions.

The best way to deal with some of that frustration was to go demon-hunting. Kill some of the menaces before her daughter had to fight them. Before they could eat hapless bystanders. Even if some of those bystanders were rather inobservant and perhaps stupid.

Killing things worked so much better than therapy, and it was cheaper than shopping.

Rupert Giles hadn't been able to explain how the Watchers knew who was the new Slayer. Which meant he couldn't be certain that Buffy had been Called as a Slayer instead of having inherited mutations become active. Which meant that maybe Buffy wasn't the destined and doomed Slayer. Or maybe she was... because he'd mentioned Slayer dreams, which Buffy had also mentioned. Dreams about past Slayers, about monsters. Dreams that meant even if Buffy hadn't been Called, she was one of the girls with the Potential to become the Slayer.

Overall, no matter what the truth was, Buffy would never have the normal life that she'd expected for her girl when she was born. Never see her competing at figure skating. And there would be difficulties with dating, let alone getting married and having her own family. Not that Joyce was in any hurry for Buffy to start a family!

Now Dawn was starting to take after her mother. After Julia Chambers-Creed, who'd actually been some sort of shape shifting spy and assassin. The woman who'd abandoned her children. How much of Julia had Dawn inherited? Would she vanish one day, leaving no way to find her and few signs that she'd ever been real?

Growling, Joyce headed towards the old factory area. There were always demons over there, especially since the rail yard was near that area as well. Dad hadn't been the first to slip into Sunnydale on a train car, and he wouldn't be the last.

There was a pair of lamprey demons near a building with blue balloon-like letters. Joyce left them eviscerated, and twitching in a puddle of their own entrails after they tried to eat her.

The big greenish demon built like an exaggerated linebacker, with a pair of curling horns, had taken one look and turned around. She'd followed him for a while, but lost sight when he went past a couple busy bars. The scents of all the people, with their cigarettes and spilled drinks had obscured his scent as well.

She growled, "I want to kill things. What's so difficult about that?"

The factory district seemed rather empty. Some people might use the word dead to describe it, but Joyce was rather frustrated in her efforts to apply that to the demons that she knew had been here just a little while ago. She could still smell traces of them…

"Joyce?"

"Angel," she turned towards him, smiling. "Would you happen to know where there are some demons or idiotic vampires that I can kill?"

"Ahhh… you seem to be in a rather vicious mood tonight," Angel paused, glancing over her, his eyes hesitating on her hand. "It looks like you've already found a demon or two."

"A pair of walking lampreys tried to eat me," Joyce shrugged, trying to scrape some of the now tacky blood from her nails. "But the overgrown linebacker with the horns retreated and I lost him near the bars."

"Linebacker? Greenish, and stinking like stale socks?" Angel asked.

"Yes. I've been trying to get some answers, and nobody has them. It's very frustrating, so I thought I'd go kill something," Joyce admitted.

She thought she heard Angel mutter something about father, habits and showing. Whatever it was, it apparently wasn't something he wanted to share.

"There's a powerful vampire with a lot of minions. His base is in an old church that collapsed under ground level during an earthquake. I'm not sure a frontal assault would be good, but there should be some minions that you... that we could pick off," Angel offered.

"That sounds wonderful," Joyce smiled again.

"Bloodthirsty wench," Angel murmured, and then paused, frowning as he looked at Joyce and the still tacky lamprey demon blood on her talons. "Joyce? Please don't get turned. You'd have Sunnydale cowering beneath your heels in no time, and the streets would echo with the screams of those you toyed with as you denied them the escape of death. So… please… don't get turned."

"It sounds like you've given the matter some thought. Should I ask why?"

"Over a century of bad habits that I still struggle with, some interesting dreams, and bad memories of your father, myself, and Darla." He wasn't looking at her, but he did appear to be fidgeting in a way that suggested he'd rather not explain what sort of dreams or memories.

"I suppose that's enough of an answer for now," Joyce conceded. "So, since I don't intend to become a vampire, where are these minions based at, and are they likely to be in ones and twos near there at this hour?"

"They're the minions of a vampire known as the Master. He's currently the eldest known member of the Order of Aurelius, which was a big force among the demon and vampire circles of the Roman Empire. From what I've learned, he was based in an abandoned church that got pulled underground in an earthquake a few decades back, and some sort of mystical backlash has him trapped inside the old church. I guess that's yet another reason to be very, very careful with your mystic rituals," Angel paused, looking thoughtful. "I'm not sure when and why he came to Sunnydale, but he was in France two hundred years ago."

"You've been trying to keep track of him?" Joyce asked, thinking that he seemed very well informed about this dreaded vampire for someone who hadn't been in Sunnydale more than a matter of months.

For a few moments, Angel fidgeted before muttering, "You remember that Darla was the one who made me a vampire. She was turned by the Master. That makes him… sort of family. The sort that I don't like and would rather not claim."

"Ahhh," Joyce decided that this was something that she would need to pry a bit more detail from Angel about at some time. But details about his vampire ancestry, why he was keeping tabs on his relatives, and how many other embarrassingly homicidal relatives he still had could wait for another time. For now, she wanted to kill things. They could talk about his family next week.

"So what sort of minions should I expect, how many, and will they be inclined and able to call for reinforcements?"

"Mostly vampires, he rarely has much use for demons. Rather, he'll use them for short term tasks, but he doesn't want to keep them around his lair. They don't smell right, taste terrible, and most of them aren't as impressed by his age and titles as the vampires, so they aren't as respectful as he'd like. The vampires won't be terribly old, I'd be astonished if there were any that were even a century. By that age, they tend to move out a little to get some of our own space, so while they'd still be obedient to him, they'd sleep and relax somewhere a little further away. As for calling for help… only the other minions might, and only if they didn't think it would kill them. Vampires aren't team players," Angel explained.

"That could be very useful… Joyce could feel herself grinning. While a good many humans weren't exactly team players either, and a great many sunlight-friendly people weren't well suited to hunting vampires, it might be very useful to know this in the future. Sometimes numbers could counter superior ability. Beyond that, Slayer or mutant, it seemed like a very bad idea for Buffy to go patrolling alone. Sometimes traditions were good and useful, and sometimes they just meant that people were afraid to change.

"I think it would be best to move towards the lair slowly, and pick off any stray minions. Then maybe circle around looking for more strays…" Angel gestured for Joyce to follow, and for a few moments he was quiet. "We don't want to attack the lair itself. We aren't strong enough to beat the Master in an even fight, and facing him in his home territory would be a very bad idea. There's also a good chance that he'll have more vampires in the lair with him."

"If we kill a good number of his current sentries, he'll need to send out whoever he's got in his lair with him, won't he? Otherwise, he'd have no advance warning if any of his enemies attack - and he must have enemies. Not only is that the most common reason for sentries, but if he doesn't get along with demons…" Joyce gave a grin full of teeth. "Who kows, if we pick away enough of his minions, maybe someone else will take him out?"

"A nice thought," Angel agreed.

The Master lost seven minions that night. Joyce found herself learning more about the under-road of Sunnydale, and was certain that they were nothing like the ordinary sewer systems of a normal American town. It was almost as if someone had decided to build a town under the town, with multiple points of connection between Sunnydale-Above and Sunnydale-Below. But who would have the organizational skills, the resources, and the influence to accomplish such a thing?

As they parted company, Joyce was certain she heard Angel muttering something about having a weakness for dangerous blondes.

Putting thoughts of Angel from her mind, Joyce decided that she really needed to talk with her father about Sunnydale. He might not be allowed to talk about the details of what he'd done as a soldier, or inclined to talk about however long he'd been doing things before his last legal existence, but he'd certainly learned from them. That learning might help make sense of Sunnydale, which was not a charming, sleepy little California town that was an excellent place to raise a family and start over.

Talking to Dawn about Julia Chambers-Creed could wait until the weekend, when it wouldn't disrupt Dawn's classes.

End MMUF 27: Therapeutic


	28. About Mother

Author: Lucinda

Rated t for teen

main characters: Joyce, Sabertooth, Buffy, Scott & Jean, Dawn

number 28 in the 'Messed Up Family' universe

Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters from BtVS or from any incarnation of the X-Men comics or Movie.

distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, anyone else ask

note: this is a continuation of the Messed Up Family AU, now into season 1 BtVS. Dawn exists, but is just the younger daughter of Joyce and Hank, not the Key.

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Joyce had just turned onto Revello Drive when her father joined her on the sidewalk. He smelled like he'd been demon hunting as well, and a glance showed that he'd been spattered with a variety of blood and slime. Idly, she wondered where her father was staying and if there was a shower - he'd certainly want one. Demon slime tended to itch when it dried.

"You disappeared with that vampire," her father didn't quite growl.

"I was having trouble finding enough demons to kill," Joyce shrugged and then paused, glancing back at her father. Her father covered with various demon bloods and slimes. "You wouldn't happen to know why I couldn't find very many demons, would you?"

"They shred nicely."

Joyce growled, feeling annoyed that he wasn't letting her kill the demons on her own and a little warm that her daddy was still trying to keep her safe. "You can't protect me from the whole world."

"But I can kill demons. Consider it me protecting my granddaughters." He shook his head, and growled, "I still think you're too young for children of your own."

"Hmmmph," Joyce snorted. As much as she was still annoyed by her father killing the demons before she could, how could she argue about him wanting Dawn and Buffy to be safe?

"Why did you disappear with the vampire? Just because there weren't many demons left…" He folded his arms, looking rather unhappy.

"The vampire is called Angel," Joyce glanced at her father, remembering that overprotective glare from high school. "He promised me stupid vampire minions to kill. So far, he's kept all his promises."

"Grrrrrr…kkk… vampire…. Hrrrrrrr…. Daughter…. Rrrrrrr," for a moment, her father couldn't manage coherent words, only a few growls and sputters. "Just how much time have you and this vampire been spending together?"

She tried not to smile. Maybe not as hard as she could have tried, but she did try… at least a little bit. "He's been helping me with sword work, we've been sparring, and he's been helping me learn just how to kill various types of demons."

There was a hacking noise that could have been a violent cough or half smothered foreign swearing.

Joyce interpreted that to mean that her father did NOT approve and was trying to find a way to forbid her from spending time with Angel that wouldn't backfire. He clearly wasn't going to try outright forbidding her, or demanding that she avoid him. Just as clearly, he really wanted to do so.

Deciding to have a sliver of pity on him, Joyce changed the subject from her spending time with Angel to one that had her far more worried. "Dad? We need to talk about mother… about Julia Chambers-Creed, or whoever she is or was. It's taken on a renewed importance."

"Can it wait until we're in the house and clean?"

Wrinkling her nose, Joyce decided that while Dawn and what was happening were troublesome and frustrating and worried her into growling fits, getting clean before the talk wouldn't hurt anything. And the mingled blood and slime was starting to stink even worse… "Yes."

It didn't take very long before Joyce had showered, scrubbing the demon blood and vampire ashes from her body. A quick change into some comfortable clothing and she was in her kitchen, starting hot cocoa as her father had his own quick shower. Dawn was spending the night with Janice, and Buffy had promised to stay in and study for a couple tests instead of patrolling tonight. When she'd paused outside of Buffy's room, she'd heard her daughter breathing the not-quite snores of sleeping on her back, arms sprawled. Buffy never had outgrown sleeping in space-hogging sprawls…

Her father came to the kitchen, his damp hair looking as long as her own. Joyce wondered when he'd started wearing it long instead of the close crop of her childhood. Rather than asking him about his hair, or his choices of wardrobe, she lifted her own cup, "Want some cocoa? I even have the little marshmallows to put on top."

He frowned, for a moment chewing on his lip before he gave a small shrug and sighed, "Sure."

Remembering her father's sweet tooth, Joyce only filed his cup two thirds of the way full of cocoa, placing it on the table. Then she put the rest of the bag of marshmallows down where he could reach them. She pretended not to watch as he filled the rest of the cup with marshmallows, letting them melt into a white mass at the top of the cup.

"Why do we need to talk about your mother?" he was looking at the marshmallows instead of Joyce.

"Buffy seems to be taking after me in looks, though a bit shorter. She's also showing enhanced senses, reflexes, strength and endurance, much like what I have and what you have. I'm not sure if it's an inheritance from us or if it's from being the Slayer. Buffy says that she is the Slayer, and Mr. Giles, the Watcher, also believes her to be a Slayer. There's apparently some sort of Slayer dreams of impending danger and demons that support this idea." Joyce sighed, "Buffy's abilities are easy enough to deal with."

"You have two daughters. If Buffy's not the one that has you worried, then that leaves the younger one. Dawn. What's she done?" he took a drink from the cup, ending up with marshmallow clinging to his lip.

"You said that you were having some memory issues. Dawn is starting to look like mother did. Her fingernails turned blue, and it wasn't nail polish. Her hair's picking up red highlights, and they aren't from dye."

"Remember that I said she's a shape-shifter? I met her a few years ago. What I didn't know then was that I was meeting her again, not for the first time. She's looking blue, with scales around the edges, with red hair and yellow eyes. She told us it was her real shape," he paused, and it was obvious to Joyce that he wasn't quite certain that he believed the woman who had once been Julia Chambers-Creed about her shape. "She's been around for a long time. She admitted to working as a spy during the War… and when someone asked which war, she said that she's worked as a spy during most of the major wars this century."

"Spies aren't known for being nice people," Joyce mused.

"No, we… they aren't. Stealing things and information. Seducing people to get things done or to distract them. Killing people. It's…" he paused, and from the small motions of his lips and jaw, he was sorting through words. "Challenging, sometimes fun, but not nice."

Joyce sipped at her cocoa, not surprised that his words made it clear that her father had been a spy as well. She'd suspected it for years, and while she didn't know if he'd meant to confirm her suspicion, she didn't plan to ask for details. He might not remember them anyhow, and even if he did, memory troubles would be a splendid excuse to not tell.

After a few quiet moments, Joyce admitted, "I don't know how to teach her to deal with shape shifting. And I don't know what else she might have inherited. Most of all, I don't want her to just walk away one day like Mom did. There was no warning, no explanation, she was just gone one day, as if she'd never been there. No note, her things were gone, and I could never find any records other than ours to prove that she'd ever existed. Certainly nothing to help find her."

"If Dawn shows more than just changing colors, we may need to talk to her for help teaching Dawn to control her ability. Assuming that I can find her… she's good at disappearing." He shook his head and took another swallow of the cocoa. "Good cocoa, pumpkin."

"Thanks," Joyce managed a smile before she moved on to the more important topic. "You've had contact with her lately. Have you talked about… about your marriage?"

"no," he stared at the melting marshmallows for several long moments before he admitted, "Most of the people that I've been around lately don't talk to me. They don't really think that I'm smart enough for it. I'm the feral, the big scary guy who can kill things, scare people, and stand between the smart leader and harm. Magneto knows I was involved in some experiments. Used as their test subject. He said one of the scientists claimed I was a volunteer, but the stuff that happened… it wasn't something anybody volunteers for. Someone lied somewhere along the lines, and I don't remember enough to know who, when or how often."

"They think that what happened with those experiments broke your mind?" Joyce asked. She almost asked if things were that bad before swallowing the question. Her father had seen enough before to have a very informed idea of how bad things could be, and if whatever had happened was bad enough to scramble him memories, it must have been very bad.

He nodded, "It did. Not as much as they think, but it did break my mind. Gaps in your memories, occasional zone outs, and berserker rages are not healthy. I have all of those now. I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have been allowed for active duty if I'd had the zone outs before."

"Than makes sense," Joyce admitted. What she wanted to do was to shout that something like that wasn't fair, that her father shouldn't have had his mind broken, that she wanted her Daddy back the way he'd been before… "You had quite a temper when we were young. Graydon and I, that is. Not berserker bad, but you'd shout, and throw things, and you broke some furniture a few times. And possibly a car… I'm not sure how much of that was a result of the Benton boys driving it into your shed and how much was what you did to the car."

"She's never admitted that she knew me before, let alone talked about why she walked out on our marriage. I don't know if she even thinks I'm still capable of having a conversation," he growled. "I remember parts of being married to her. It wasn't a perfect marriage, but… From what I recall, we could have made things work if she'd been willing to. The fact that she left is a pretty clear signal that she didn't want to make it work."

"That she was done, that she didn't think we were worth staying with, staying for," Joyce murmured, remembering the pain and confusion she'd felt when her mother was just gone.

He nodded. "What do you want to tell her?"

"We have to tell her some of it," Joyce was thinking out loud, and paused to take another sip of cocoa. Discovering the cup was empty, she sighed and got up to pour another cup. "Perhaps start with the fact that my mother was also a mutant, a shape shifter. That she seems to have inherited some measure of that."

"And leave out the family abandoning spy part of things?" He asked, using one claw to scoop up half melted marshmallow to eat.

"For now. I'd rather not bring up that part any sooner than we need to. When she graduates, if it hasn't been needed before, I suppose. I can try to teach her… we can, if you're planning to stick around," she looked at him. Part of her wanted him to stay, wanted him to be part of her family again. Another part of her was afraid that he'd leave again, be reported dead again.

"Very least I'll be keeping in touch," he promised. "I might have to travel a bit, especially if there's trouble or old enemies. I know I have some, and I even remember a couple faces… They might be still out there, they might be dead, they might have been dead for decades. I can't remember everything."

Joyce nodded, understanding his reasoning. It still felt good to have her father back.

End MMUF28: About Mother…


	29. Talking About the Relatives

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Joyce was waiting with breakfast for Dawn when her younger daughter staggered out before school. She owed Dawn at least a little bit of an explanation, even if she hoped to wait for the uglier parts until later - much later, if possible. With none of them knowing how much Dawn had inherited from her grandmother, it would be best to start planning. The fact that Dawn might want to know that she could wind up all over blue was also a factor.

"Mom? Waffles?" Dawn paused, twisting a bit of hair into a thin braid. "I didn't do it. There's no evidence..."

"Waffles, with strawberries and peanut butter. You aren't in trouble," Joyce paused, and the frowned, "I wasn't aware of anything that you should be in trouble for. Is there something that you should explain?"

Dawn dropped into a chair, pulling the plate towards her with a half smile, "No, nothing that you need to know about. I've been too busy with school... mmmm, these're good."

After several large bites, Dawn asked, "So what did you want to talk about?"

"My mother," Joyce paused, trying to find the right words. This had sounded so simple last night.

"You said I looked kinda like her, though I've got... had Dad's hair. Weird that it's going red - if there was rust in the water, it would be getting you and Buffy's hair, and yours isn't going reddish at all. What else?" Dawn lifted another bite of waffle towards her mouth.

"I know that we covered the fact that my Dad's a mutant. What I didn't know when I was your age is that my mother is as well," Joyce decided to just give a few facts directly. There were times for word games and dragging bits of information out, but this wasn't one of them.

"She... is? I thought you said she vanished? How do you know? What did... does she do?" Dawn whispered, her eyes wide and looking very hazel today.

"I haven't seen or heard from her since she left," Joyce paused, pushing the memories back. "Dad's seen her since then. It turns out that she's a shape-shifter. She may look different, but the scent's the same, so it's the same person. They haven't talked about... about when they were together. He can't answer some of what I want to know."

"A shape-shifter... like she can turn into a cat or something?" Dawn asked.

"No, a shape-shifter, meaning that she can look like someone else. She could look like your teacher, like the waitress, like... like anyone, I suppose," Joyce tried to explain, depending on the information that her Dad had given her about her mother, now calling herself 'Mystique'. How much had her mother changed in the decades since she'd seen her? After all, her father had changed considerably.

"Anybody at all? That's cool... and creepy. There has to be some sort of limit," Dawn frowned, taking another bite.

"I'm sure that there are limits. That doesn't mean that I know them," Joyce sighed. "I didn't even know."

Dawn looked thoughtful, and then asked, "So why are you bringing this up now?"

"Apparently, she's claimed that her natural form is blue, with red hair and yellow eyes. The same blue that your fingernails have turned," Joyce explained. She didn't mention her Dad's doubts about the blue being Mystique's natural shape, or the fact that she was and had been a spy.

"So am I just turning blue, or will I wind up a blue shape-shifter?" Dawn asked.

"I don't know," Joyce admitted. "Mutations can be tricky to figure out even for people who've studied genetics. Everything that I've seen in myself is something that comes from Dad, but… I know enough to know that half of my genes came from her, and half of yours came from me. You've got something from her, it's just a question of how much and what it will do to or for you."

"This is my advance warning of what I may have inherited?"

"I know that you've inherited something from her, some of her ability. It might never be more than blue fingernails, it might be that you become a shape-shifter," Joyce sighed and sipped her coffee. "Sometimes adults don't have all the answers."

"If she's a shape-shifter... for how long? Could she have left because she turned blue?" Dawn looked at her with big eyes. "That would kind of freak me out. And that was long enough that nobody was talking about mutants, would she have any idea what was going on?"

Joyce considered that, considered what it would be like to suddenly turn blue. It sounded like a wonderful explanation - that she'd fled in confusion at changing, that it hadn't been a rejection of her family. This hope had to be weighed against her Dad's warning that Mystique was a spy, had claimed to be a spy for a long, long time. She didn't know, and didn't want to give the wrong impression. "I don't know, but waking up blue would be a big change."

"Suddenly turning blue won't make me abandon my family," Dawn promised. "Ditch school maybe, but not you and Buffy."

"School is important, Dawnie," Joyce sighed.

Later, in a hotel room across Sunnydale, Scott Summers picked up the phone and placed a call to his favorite school, in Westchester, New York.

:Xavier's School for the Gifted, how can I help you today?: drawled across the line in Marie's accented voice.

"Marie? Can I talk to the Professor?" Scott smiled before adding, "You sounded very professional."

:Hang on a moment an' I'll get the Professor. He's been wondering how your trip t'see your cousin's been workin' out,: Marie commented.

There was a soft clatter as she put the phone down and then he could hear her voice calling, "Professor? Scott's on the phone. He wants ta talk t'you."

A few moments later, the phone was picked up, and a familiar voice spoke, :Scott, I hope everything is going well for your visit?:

"Things have gone fairly well. It turns out that Buffy's father Hank was my dad's younger brother," Scott could feel himself smiling.

:Have you met your uncle?:

"No, and from what Joyce - that's Buffy's mother - had to say, he's been involved with the Friends of Humanity. It doesn't sound like we'd get along," Scott admitted.

:Perhaps you could explain the family dynamic a bit better? I thought you said that you met Buffy when she was out with her father?: the confusion in the Professor's voice was understandable.

"A divorce with occasional visitation", Scott explained. "Joyce has primary custody of both girls."

:Should I ask if you've learned about Joyce's views on mutants? Or the other daughter... older or younger?:

Scott chuckled, "That's where things get weird. Joyce... it turns out that her father is Sabertooth. Buffy's fifteen, and she's taking things pretty well. As for Dawn, well... she's twelve. It really seems like she's more worried about her schoolwork than what sort of genetics her family has."

:Sabertooth?... He has... I must admit that I have difficulty picturing him as a parent: the Professor stammered.

"Apparently, he's not sure that Joyce should be old enough to have children, let alone two teenagers," Scott commented, fighting a smile.

:Should we extend an offer for them to visit the school?:

"Maybe. I don't know if they'd want to relocate again, they apparently only moved a few months ago."

:Even if they don't want to relocate, I think it might be interesting to meet your relatives.:

"That's one word for them," Scott found himself smiling as he thought about the family dinner. He thought having them visit would be very interesting... as long as Sabertooth didn't go with them.

end MMUF29: Talking About the Relatives


	30. Looking Ahead

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Joyce was considering the unexpected conversation she'd had earlier today. Actually, Professor Charles Xavier had called Scott, and they had talked for a good while about a number of people that Joyce assumed were at this school. After a while, Scott had handed her the phone, grinning and explaining that the Professor wanted to talk to her for a bit. He'd given her and her daughters a standing invitation to visit his school. He'd described it as 'a school for the gifted', but from her talks with Scott, Joyce knew that in this case, gifted meant mutant. It sounded like a fascinating place. Dozens of young mutants, exploring the extent of their abilities, how to control their gifts, learning not to fear their differences, gaining an education, and maybe even growing up...

She'd found herself wondering why someone like Professor Xavier hadn't contacted her when she was a confused teenage mutant. After thinking about it for a little while longer, she realized that she was actually fairly close to the same age as Professor Xavier. That when Joyce was a teenager, Charles Xavier had still been years, if not decades, away from creating his school. That the closest there might have been to a 'special program for mutants' might have been whatever had been done to her father; and she could only count herself fortunate to have escaped something like that. There were downsides to looking so much younger than her actual age, and this was one of them. That was an awkward and unsettling thought. She decided not to mention that part to, well, anyone unless it became necessary. And it shouldn't be necessary.

"Time enough to talk to them after school about maybe visiting Scott and Jean." Joyce felt a little better about that, and tried to focused her attention on setting up her next exhibit instead of considering how her family might react to visiting Xavier's school. While Joyce had just started adjusting to being in Sunnydale and had no intention of moving for any reason short of disaster, felony charges, or a possible localized apocalypse, she did think that it might be interesting to visit this school. Though she wasn't certain what her father would think, not that she intended to let his opinion influence her behavior as much as it had when she was a teenager. For that matter, she didn't know what her daughters would think of the idea.

She was humming when she realized just how much Hank would have hated the idea of a school for mutants. That led to other thoughts of Hank, and she found herself wondering again just what she'd seen in him, and where it had gone over the years. She wouldn't have dated, let alone married, the Hank that he'd become by last year, so... What had brought them together? Why had they stayed together for so long?

With a bit more thought as she continued handling matters at the gallery, she concluded that he'd probably picked up the beginnings of that attitude from Derek, his mentor at his first job after they'd married. The guidance on corporate etiquette and how to work a business meeting had been needed, Hank had adopted a wardrobe rather similar to Derek's, and that had been when he'd picked up an interest in tennis... which had blossomed when he'd realized how many pretty women played tennis in shorts or little skirts.

Sighing, Joyce murmured, "If it had only stayed wandering eyes... It was when his hands started to wander that it stopped being acceptable. And I was far too willing to stay out of habit, and thinking that leaving him would not only upset the girls but that they'd never give me custody of them. Afraid it'd be too much like Mother abandoning us."

Descending into the basement of her gallery, Joyce picked up a sword. "I will never become my mother. I won't abandon my children, and I refuse to just let my family slip away without trying to hold on. And I'm not going to just stand aside and let anything hurt my girls."

After a bit of sword practice in the basement, Joyce made her way home. She'd have to ask how the girls' day at school had gone. Maybe she'd also need to see if there had been any changes with Dawn's wretched teacher. Or if there was anything new in the realm of slayable dangers from Mr. Giles. Perhaps she and Angel could remove a few more minions from that Master vampire trapped in the abandoned church - that had been rather fun.

End part 1.

Buffy got home first, complaining about the bus and looking forward to being able to drive to school in a few months, when she'd be sixteen. Never mind that being sixteen only meant she'd be legal to try to get a license, not that she'd be given one just for surviving to her sixteenth birthday. Becoming sixteen didn't somehow produce a car for Buffy to drive either. Those misconceptions would be ground to shreds as she continued teaching Buffy to drive, assuming that Buffy could find the time between school and patrol and her friends. Joyce wasn't going to drag Buffy into driving lessons, and if Buffy didn't at least seem to be paying a little attention to the rules of the road, then she wasn't going to rush to get those lessons from anyone else.

"You do know that you won't get a car as your sixteenth birthday present, right?" Joyce suspected that Buffy hadn't even thought about what cars cost - the cars that would be within her budget to buy for Buffy would also be the sort that might not be entirely safe, would probably also be rather near their sixteenth birthday, and certainly nothing that would impress a teenage girl. For that matter, they wouldn't impress anyone other than a mechanic or a junkyard dealer.

"Mo-oom!" Buffy dragged out the word.

"How was school? Anything of interest, new monsters, big tests?"

"A girl caught on fire during the cheerleader try-outs. That was pretty weird." Buffy offered, dropping a stack of books on the table.

"On fire? That does sound rather odd," Joyce didn't mention that it sounded rather like taking 'flaming cheerleaders' much too far. "Did you talk to Mr. Giles about that? He did say that the weird and bizarre were often under the responsibility of Watchers and Slayers."

"I did and he made some funny noises, cleaned his glasses, and said that he'd need to check a few books. So I guess I just wait for him to figure out what's going on." Buffy gave a little shrug, and then sighed, "Life was simpler when I was a cheerleader."

"I don't recall you asking about the tryouts this year." Joyce poured Buffy a glass of milk, and reached into the cupboard. "I think there should still be some cookies in here, unless someone found and ate them last night."

"What with being a Slayer, or a super strong mutant, I didn't think it would really be fair." Buffy was staring at the table, and her voice suggested that she might be pouting. Buffy had loved being a cheerleader at Hemery.

"Scott's favorite teacher, Professor Xavier, called today. He wanted to invite the three of us - you, Dawn and myself - to visit his school. He thought we might find it interesting." Joyce grinned as she found the bag of cookies and pulled it down. Opening the bag, she bit down on the first cookie before offering Buffy the second. "It wouldn't be a transfer to Xavier's school, just a bit of a visit. They might have some good ideas for helping you work with your strength and reflexes."

"That might be cool. Maybe over a long weekend?" Buffy dunked her cookie into the milk, before nibbling at it. "Whichever explanation there is for these things, it's done wonders for not gaining extra weight."

"You've never in your life been in danger of carrying extra body weight," Joyce retorted.

Buffy stared at the milk, the cookie dangling and shedding sodden crumbs into the glass. "Scott and Jean are going to have to go back, aren't they? They won't be staying in Sunnydale."

"Honey, Scott and Jean have things that they need to do. Lives and commitments elsewhere. Besides that, do you think that they'd really be safe in Sunnydale?" Joyce worried that if they stayed in this dangerous town for too long, one or the other of them, if not both, would wind up terribly injured at best. Perhaps even killed. They probably wouldn't heal as well as she did.

"Probably not. Sunnydale isn't really big with the safety." Buffy sighed, "But we can go visit, right? When things calm down a bit, or there's a long weekend?"

"Of course. If you'd like, they might also be able to sort out this whole Slayer or mutant question. Or at least look at it from another angle."

"Maybe," Buffy slowly ate the rest of the cookie. "What happens if we go there and find out that I'm a mutant after all? That I'm not really the Slayer, just… just a passable substitute?"

"You're my daughter. You're Buffy Summers, and you're not a substitute for anything. Maybe you are the Slayer. Maybe you're a physically gifted mutant. Regardless, you are going to be wonderful, and if you want to hunt and kill vampires and demons, then you'll be one of the best in the world at it. I'll help you. Mr. Giles will help you." Joyce didn't mention that if it turned out that Buffy wasn't the Slayer, and Mr. Giles blathered on about only the Slayer having the duty to fight, then she'd give him the choice of helping Buffy anyhow or getting eviscerated. "Your grandfather might help you. He's mentioned wanting to get to know you and Dawn."

"Family bonding by demon hunting and killing things?" Buffy shook her head. "That's got to be a first."

"Well, it would be our family." Joyce smiled.

"Do any of us really do normal?" Buffy sniffled a little. "Life was easier a few years ago. You worked at that green haired lady's gallery, Dad worked at the Insurance company, Dawn played softball, and I wanted to be a cheerleader. There were no monsters in the dark, and everything was simple and happy."

Joyce gave Buffy a little smile, "Things were never that simple. Whatever monsters are real now already existed three, four, five… ten years ago. Just because you didn't know about them didn't mean they weren't out there. The gallery in LA was owned by a very charming person in dresses, but I've been assured by people with first-hand knowledge that underneath the make-up and lovely evening gowns… Well, Chris was short for Christopher, not Crystal."

"The gallery in LA was owned by a cross-dresser?" Buffy blinked. "That's… but…"

"Does it really matter?" Joyce asked.

Buffy just stared. "That was a guy?"

Joyce started to snicker. "Did you have homework today?"

Buffy drank the rest of the milk and reached for one of her books. "A guy? But… the high heels, the pretty dresses. The eyelashes. The… the… curves! Guys don't… I mean…"

"The heels are from practice, there are fake eyelashes in any decent cosmetics section, and it's amazing what a good corset can do." Joyce snagged herself another cookie.

Buffy made a whimpering noise and whispered, "bad images." In a louder voice, she continued, "I really need to study my French. And then History."

Buffy retreated from the kitchen, her expression speaking of her confusion and dismay. Joyce sighed, feeling a small pang of guilt at the way a few words had so thoroughly upset her daughter and tilted her memories of LA sideways, and a larger pang at how amusing the whole thing had been. On the other hand, Buffy really needed to learn that appearances weren't everything, that in fact, appearances could be quite deceptive. The idea that scary things had been around even before Buffy knew about them should only be common sense, and if her daughter wasn't using that by now… Well, if Buffy wasn't in the habit of using sense, there was only so much time that Joyce had to get her to start before Buffy decided that she was adult enough to move out and live on her own.

By the time Dawn walked inside, Joyce had thoroughly cleared away those pangs of guilt, convinced that it was really for Buffy's own good. If Buffy was the Slayer, she desperately needed to know how to look beyond the surface for these supernatural threats. If she was a mutant, she still needed to learn not to judge by appearances.

Looking at her younger daughter, she brought up the invitation from Westchester. "Dawnie, Scott and Jean will be going back to New York before too much longer. However, they did invite us to go visit them, and the Professor in charge of the school they both attended has said that he'd be quite willing for us to come over and take a look around."

"The special, secret school for mutants?" Dawn asked, dropping her backpack beside the table. "That would be so cool! He's not afraid that we'll scare his students?"

"You do realize that we are mutants, right? Why would we frighten his students when you and Buffy are probably the same age as most of them, and I'm just a divorced mother of two with an art gallery." Joyce poured Dawn a glass of milk and offered her the rest of the cookies.

"What about that whole Slayer thing with Buffy? The one where she's got a Destiny and fights scary things, and monsters are real," Dawn countered. "Wouldn't that scare people at that school?"

"Apart from the fact that I'm still doubtful about that, there is no need to tell anyone else about the possibility that Buffy might be a Slayer, or _the _Slayer. From what I've gathered, part of what makes a Slayer more successful is that the monsters that she fights tend to consider a young woman as a victim, not a danger. Announcing that she might be a specially enhanced fighter would remove the element of surprise. Especially if it is her destiny to do that." Joyce paused, and glanced at her younger daughter. "Were you reading Buffy's diary again?"

"Maybe." Dawn couldn't maintain eye contact. "She really needs to find a new place to keep it. When she complains about a Slayer's destiny she always capitalizes the d in destiny. And really, it's kind of cool that my sister kills monsters. And this guy Owen at school sounds a bit lame. Xander sounds cooler."

"Most of the monsters aren't that hard to kill," Joyce muttered. In a more normal voice, "That isn't something that you should just announce to people. If they don't know about the monsters, then they might jump to the same conclusions that I started with, that Buffy was getting into fights with strange looking mutants."

"Oh. Sorry, I guess I didn't think about it. " Dawn looked at her nails, which were still blue. "How do I make them not blue? Green's a nice color, or maybe a light pink or a peach would go better with the rest of my clothing."

"Maybe if you picture them changing color and think about it very hard? It must be something that she can control, if she makes use of it to spy. Which means that it should be something that you can learn to control." Joyce offered the suggestion, hoping that whatever mutation her daughter had inherited would follow that logic; that she could change things, like Julia who was now Mystique, instead of just turning blue around the edges forever.

Dawn nodded, munching on a cookie and staring at the fingernails of her other hand.

Joyce left her youngest daughter to her thoughts while she started dinner. When she glanced over later, Dawn's left hand now sported peach nails, while the fingernails of her right hand were still dark blue. She wondered if Dawn had noticed, and if she planned to change the other hand to match.

"This town certainly is interesting," Joyce murmured. She wasn't certain what would happen next, or if she'd like it. But it didn't look like life in Sunnydale would ever be dull.

End part 2.

Jean had called about an hour after Dawn came home, asking if Joyce could drop them off at the airport to return to Westchester. She'd insisted that it wasn't that she and Scott hadn't enjoyed meeting Joyce or her daughters, but that they had things that they needed to do back home. Neither had voiced the fact that Sunnydale, with all the demons and vampires, confused and frightened Scott and Jean. Joyce considered that a very sensible reaction.

Picking them up from the car rental office, Joyce smiled at Jean. "Did Scott tell you about the Professor's invitation?"

"He did. Will you be visiting us at our home, now that we've seen yours?" Jean rubbed at her temples, "I won't miss this town or all the headaches that it gives, though you and your daughters have been fun to meet."

Joyce noticed that Jean and Scott were both evading the issue of her father. Then again, they had been very twitchy about him over dinner. And hadn't Scott said something about Professor Xavier and Magneto having some sort of argument? Given that she still didn't know how her father had ended up working with or for Magneto… "It's always good to know who's part of your family, and where you stand with them."

"I still have trouble picturing him as a father, and I've seen it with my own eyes," Scott mumbled, quiet enough that Joyce wouldn't have heard him except that her senses were better than an ordinary human's. "Sabertooth, with a daughter. With granddaughters. Granddaughters who are my cousins…"

"Buffy and Dawn both liked the idea of visiting, but we aren't sure when it'll fit into our schedules. A long weekend with no impending disasters here, but that might take a while." Joyce offered to Scott and Jean.

"Whenever you can make it out, we'll be delighted to show you around out home. To show you our school," Scott smiled at her.

"A school without the feeling of doom and despair that the evil high school here has," Jean shook her head. "All I have to do is set foot on the grounds and my head starts to throb."

Joyce chuckled at that. "Not to belittle your pain, but every high school that I've ever seen reeked of despair. Despair and sweaty socks, most of the time."

Arriving at the airport didn't take long, nor did getting the pair of them checked in and onto their flight out of Sunnydale. From there, they'd catch a connecting flight in Phoenix, Arizona that would take them to an airport in New York. Jean had promised that she'd call Joyce and give her the details after she'd made arrangements for someone to pick them up on the other end. It less than an hour, they were airborne, leaving Sunnydale.

They'd probably be safer elsewhere.

As much as she'd enjoyed their company, Joyce doubted that Sunnydale would be good for them. Especially since they seemed to be so flustered by her father and the idea that the monsters were real. Being off balance and reacting with stunned disbelief could get you maimed or killed in a fight. While she had considered suggesting that they think of them the same way they thought of other people in a fight, it would probably be a terrible idea. They didn't try to kill other mutants, or humans. Demons needed to be killed, not locked into jails, if they were trying to eat people.

Scott and Jean would stay in touch – they'd call, they'd email. Buffy and Dawn would have a decent relative on their father's side. A place that they could visit, maybe even people that they could count on. If things went the way they all hoped. If being a mutant wasn't just as dangerous as hunting demons and vampires. If they weren't hit by a bus. There were dozens of things that could happen to people, to throw plans into disruption. For her daughters' sake, she hoped that nothing too serious happened to Scott or Jean.

End part 3.

Joyce decided that a patrol would be just the thing to clear her thoughts tonight. Rather than worrying about Buffy driving, about Dawn possibly turning blue, about her gallery, about Scott and Jean, about if Buffy was the Slayer - she could just find something to hunt. To kill the monsters that would otherwise endanger her daughters. To stay away from the fretting, ineffective woman who'd stayed home while Hank had been out God-only-knew where, with his latest girlfriend. The more she remembered being her Daddy's Pumpkin, the more she hunted the monsters in Sunnydale, the less she could stand Hank Summers' wife.

"Something bothering you, Joyce?" Angel's question floated in the darkness, distracting Joyce from her fretting.

Joyce felt herself smiling as she turned to face the vampire, approaching her from down-wind. "Angel. Don't mind me, I'm just trying to calm down from some family issues."

"If you were a vampire, I'd suggest violence or…" Angel paused, and looked away. "Except you aren't a vampire, you're human."

Looking at Angel, Joyce wondered if he'd be blushing if he were alive. She wondered just what the other recommendation for a vampire would be, and why he was trying not to tell her this second option. Stepping closer, she cupped her hand over his cheek, "You said 'violence or…' but then you didn't finish your thought. What other suggestion for dealing with stress and frustration did you have going through your mind?"

His hand slid into the hair over her ear, and he leaned close to her. His eyes flickered from dark brown to amber and back to brown as he whispered, "Joyce, you've no idea what you do to me."

"Maybe you should tell me. I've lost my taste for guessing games," a sensation rather like butterflies in her stomach teased at Joyce, lowering her own words to something close to Angel's whisper. Her imagination painted a dozen ways that this moment could move forwards. Joyce didn't know what was on his mind, and she wasn't even certain what she wanted to be on his mind.

With a soft growl, Angel's lips met her own as his other arm slid around her waist, holding her close. It wasn't a gentle, teasing kiss, but one filled with longing, temptation and urgency. Joyce found herself kissing back, part of her wondering how long he'd wanted to kiss her and part of her wondering why he'd given in to that urge tonight. She could feel his teeth change, becoming sharper, his kiss shifting to be more aggressive and almost desperate. Their bodies were pressing together, as close as two people could be while still in their clothing.

Joyce didn't need Angel to put the other option into words anymore. Clearly, for vampires a problem could be dealt with either by violence or sex. The words slipped out as she pulled back just enough that their lips were no longer locked together, a whisper against his lips, "Very tempting."

"You have no idea how tempting," Angel replied before he kissed her again.

They kissed for several long moments before Joyce sighed and pulled back, not entirely out of his arms. "Tempting as you and your kisses are… we're in the middle of a graveyard, and I'm not certain that I'm ready to jump into bed with you."

"Because humans and vampires take a different view of sex?" Angel sighed, and leaned his forehead against hers. "I can't... I'm not human anymore. I'll never be human again, never think and react just like a human. But I can't be an ordinary vampire anymore either."

"Angel, if I'd met you, been faced with this sort of tempting offer, before I had two daughters to worry about," Joyce closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. "Before my daughters, I'd be asking you if you knew where a room was instead of saying that this is going too fast."

"Before you had to worry about more than yourself." Angel took a single step back, meeting her eyes, his features having taken on their vampiric cast.

"I'm not telling you not ever, Angel," Joyce ran her fingertips over the ridges of his forehead, and smiled. "I'm saying not tonight. Why don't we go kill something instead?"

Sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight, Angel tugged her hand to follow him. "I have a few ideas of where we can find something to kill."

Following Angel in search of monsters to kill, Joyce hoped that this would work better than Hank. Angel made her feel attractive and desirable in a way that she hadn't felt in years. He wasn't afraid of her being strong, being capable of killing her own monsters – in fact, he seemed to find the idea a definite turn-on. He knew that she was a mutant, and didn't seem to care. No, things with Angel wouldn't turn out the same way that things had with Hank. At the very worst, Angel would be a completely different kind of mistake.

End part 4.

End MMUF 30: Looking Ahead


End file.
